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millersfinest · 3 months ago

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the thing in your chest that beats ³ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.3k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho (you’re here) | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, some joel references, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’, ellie has a panic attack, shambler appearance (ew), and for the fun part… SMUT, switch!reader, oral sex, fingering ( :P ), barely any dirty talk because this is a loving experience y’all (and i don’t really know how to write that lmao), ellie might be a little ooc but i just perceive her to be this way idk.

note: to start… if anyone needs anyone to talk to after hearing the results of the election, please don’t be afraid to direct message me. especially my fellow american queer/trans friends. we are truly in some tough times right now. i hope this chapter can serve as some sort of distraction for what’s going on. as always, enjoyy!

Idaho

Welcome to the Gem State, the sign read when you passed the state line into Idaho a few days ago. The place you’ve been dreaming of was getting closer and closer—that feeling of relief was near! You could feel it bubbling in your stomach, enriching the nerves that ran under your sore muscles.

Since Oregon, you and Ellie had barely shared a full conversation. It’s only been small directions, or helpful interjections with infected, or even, guidance in getting around potentially dangerous people.

This time around, you harbored most of the frustration and anger. Wrath wrapped itself around you once more, forbidding you from wondering what her inquiries meant—what bringing up Honey meant. Ellie tried to service you the best she could, trying to make up physically for what she couldn’t vocally. Resuming her position as your caretaker, but that only made things worse.

The wounds and weaknesses of Santa Barbara were healing but were being replaced by new ones. Surface cuts, sprained ankles, and scorned hearts. Ellie could ask you nothing without the pitch of your voice raising an octave. It wasn’t anything like the character she knew you to be.

Or the months you spent together thus far meant nothing—she never actually knew anything about you.

The annotated map relied in your hands as you approached an administrative building. You had spent the previous night planning the route, instead of engaging in small talk with your partner. You were, somehow, still trying to prove to Ellie that you didn’t need her. Indulging in an individual competition of: who does it better? It was a drastic understatement to call you a competitive person. And her incessant need to make up for the misfortune of her curiosity wasn’t helping.

“Here’s the firm…” You mutter, immediately trotting to the front doors. American Falls Firm. Pulling at the handle, you realized it was locked and barricaded from the inside. Huffing, you folded up the map, sliding it into your backpack. “Looks like we gotta find another way in.” Dusting your hands, you began to survey different sides of the building. She followed behind you, keeping an eye out for lingering infected and any other inhibitors.

Humming to yourself, you squinted at the broken window above you. Turning your head, you peered at the auburn-haired woman who’s back faced you. Your Beretta resided in her hands as she kept a keen eye on the surroundings. Ellie didn’t mind doing that job because it kept her mind from wanting appeal to you. It kept her from wanting to beg for your forgiveness. After all, this was just her doing you a debtless favor. She shouldn’t have been so attached to you anyway.

“Hey,” You waved her over. “I need a boost.”

She met your eyes, nodding with firm lips. “Sure,” Slinging the shotgun around her body, she bent at the knee and cupped her hands low. Placing your hands on her shoulders, your irises danced over her features, briefly. Dirt attempted to blend in with the freckles over her nose, but they didn’t stand a chance—you knew the difference. Her olive eyes did well to avoid yours, feigning a look of impatience. “Up you go.”

Ellie boosted you up toward the window with all the strength she could muster. Fingers catching onto the edge of where the floor and window meant. Using your own strength, you pulled yourself into a room illuminated by daylight. Groaning under your breath from the stretch of your muscles. Crouching, you leaned back down to pull Ellie up.

Her hand attached to your forearm, crawling up the stone wall and into the room. Ellie hissed as she crawled inside, holding her wrapped ankle to alleviate some of the pain. Standing to your feet, you looked down at her with flickers of concern in your eyes.

The other day, she tripped over a thick fallen tree branch from the morning dew—spraining or straining her ankle, you couldn’t remember the difference. All you knew was that she hurt her ankle badly, but it wasn’t broken. Ellie wrapped it herself with athletic tape from your bag; with her back facing you in embarrassment.

“Can we keep going, or do you need a second?” You inquire, avoiding your eyes, dismissively. Like you didn’t care what her response was, even though you did.

“I’m fine…” She stood to her feet, wringing out her foot.

“You sure?”

“I said I’m fine…” Ellie grumbled, walking off to another side of the room.

It was a barren office that the both of you meandered through. Picking at the miscellaneous items that could serve you in any way. There were two desks that occupied the office; decorated with familial picture frames and old-world gadgets that made no sense to either of you.

Slowly, pushing open the door, the entire building appeared silent. Light peaking through broken and foggy windows, greenery growing inside and through the deteriorating structure. You found it rather beautiful that the earth was taking back what was hers—negating the infected, of course. Your fingers traced the vines that grew through the cement. Those plants were living despite opposition; everyone could learn something from that.

Breaking through barriers and walls, despite their resilience.

You glanced at the auburn-haired woman, keeping a safe distance from you, scoping out the place. “What’s the route out of here?” She asks, dragging her sneakers against the cracked floors. There was a slight limp to her gait, but made sure to walk as normal as possible when your eyes were set on her.

Blowing air from your lips, you respond. “The ground floor. There should be a stairwell around here somewhere.”

Usually, lower floors of abandoned buildings worried you. Infected find themselves huddled in their own corrosion. In darker, moister, places they intensified. Some merging to the walls, other growing boils of acid.

When your eyes set on a metal door that led to the floor you needed to get to, your heart pumped blood into your veins. Pounding in your ears as an alarm. Through the window, white flurries fluttered by, confirming the one thing you were concerned about: over-developed infected.

“Mask up. Spores.” You swing your bag around to dig for your mask.

Ellie did the same, with slight hesitation. “Is the this only way through?”

You nodded, tightening the strap around your head. “Yeah, if we still wanna knock off some time.” Opening the door, you armed yourself with the pistol that sat snuggly in the waistband of your jeans. The walls were adorned in the crusty corrosion of the sick, bubbling in corners. You frowned under your mask, stepping slowly down the stairs. Ellie following behind you with the same caution, shotgun drawn.

Errk!

Both of you stopped moving in the stairwell at the sound of a clicker. You swear under your breath, glancing at your partner. “We’ve got company.” She muttered, nodding at you to go forward.

Moments like this was when you relied on her the most, but you’d never admit it. It was nice to not have to endure circumventing infected alone. Ellie was your backup, and you were hers. Even if you were still upset with her—underground that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive.

Navigating through the dark, with your lights flickered on, the both of you managed to stealthily kill the clickers wandering around. But when a pair of crusted hands leaped from the wall, pushing you onto the ground… Another beast was alerted.

With the sound of Ellie’s shotgun, a loud monstrous grumble rumbled from down the hall. You pushed the stalker to the side, scrambling to your feet. “Ellie, how many bullets do we have?” You asked her, adrenaline pumping through your body.

She checked the chamber, cursing. “Fuck! Three rounds.”

Picking up the pistol from the ground, you checked the magazine. Only a few bullets. The shambler began to stomp, approaching the two of you, increasing into a run. “We gotta go!” You grab her hand, tugging her a tight hole in the wall; tall enough for you to slip through.

Running into the room, you realized there wasn’t an exit. There was only a door, but it led back out into the hallway. The quick call you made to evade the boiling beast, was a mistake. Before you could even regret the decision, the shambler bursted through the wall.

Without command, Ellie began firing the shotgun. First bullet. Second bullet. Third bullet—she was out. It roared, releasing puffs of acid. You both dodged by the skin of your teeth, running around the room like frightened mice. Now, it was your turn to unleash pointless blows to the creature. Emptying the rest of your magazine into the bulbous creature did nothing but anger it. Somehow, it found a way to creep up behind you and Ellie, taking her by the throat.

“Ellie!” You exclaimed, voice trembling in horror. Her hands scratched at its arms, pounding to be set free.

A pipe leaned out of a wall as an escape route, a message from God—fate, prying at you. Using the strength of a scared shitless person, you yanked the pipe free, falling back onto your butt. Quickly, you stood up and began hacking at the thing. Sounds of effort and defensive fear leaving your lips. Dropping Ellie onto the ground, he turned to you, roaring. However, your hacking at his body didn’t stop until he was on his knees. Gurgles left his corroded and bubbled mouth, but you used it as bait to make your final blow.

Heaving over its corpse, your back hunched, the pipe slipping from your sweaty grip. She coughed, reminding you of her presence, slumped against the wall. Her breath began to grow heavy, hand on her chest.

“Oh, my God— Ellie!” You crouched beside her, unsure where to place your shaking hands. She attempted to crack a smile, to pretend she was fine, but she wasn’t. The imperative organ in her chest beat faster than it should have, knocking the wind out of her. She couldn’t breathe—at least it felt like she couldn’t.

Ellie was panicking.

“Hey,” You tried, deepening your eyebrows, sliding your hands from her shoulders to her neck, to her trembling jaw. “Ellie,” Her hand shot up to grip your wrist with vigor, looking into your eyes, intensely. “Ellie, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Your free hand pushed strangling hair from sticking to the plastic of her mask.

The grip on your wrist moved to the entrapment on her face. She began to claw at it, whining. “No…” You attempt to stop her fast, strong movements, but she shoved you away. “Ellie— no! What the fuck are you doing?!”

She peeled the mask off her face, taking the deepest breaths you’ve ever seen. Leaning back, your eyes watered, watching her gasp for toxic air. Ellie pushed the strands of her hair off her face, leaning her head against the cement of the wall. Her heart was settling, but then she looked to you. Olive eyes meeting your teary ones. “What the- what d-did you just do?” You stammered. “Ellie…”

You enunciated her name with such weariness that it made her feel guilty. Still, getting herself together from her panic attack, she felt the need to console you. But she didn’t have the energy.

Breathing heavily under your mask, you watch as nothing happened to her. She doesn’t convulse, choking on the toxic elements in the air. There was nothing different about her. Absolutely nothing.

“I can…” Ellie breathed. “I can explain later. Let’s just get outta here first, all right?”

Having no choice but to believe her, you stood to your feet. Reaching down for her hand. When you pulled her up, her ankle gave out on her. “Shit,” Ellie cursed, furrowing her eyebrows. “The harder they fall, huh?” She dryly chuckled.

You frowned, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

Unamused, you found a way out of the ground floor. Unmasking at the first sight of daylight. You didn’t have to travel far with Ellie’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. The only place that was able to receive your weak bodies was a little bookstore around the corner.

It was clustered inside. Book aisles placed close together, where only a single body could shimmy through. A pair of metal stairs spiraled up the back of the store, leading to another floor of books. Dropping all of your things, including Ellie’s arm, you stalked up those rusty steps with hot tears welling into your eyes.

Ellie leaned against a bookshelf, pressing her lips into a line. Watching every harsh step you took, ascending up the stairs. Her own eyes began to fill with tears, glancing down at her shaking hands. Before they could fall, she harshly wiped her face and decided to busy herself. It wasn’t a bad time to take inventory.

Upstairs, you found yourself huddled in a corner. Hot tears streaming down your cheeks, weeping as low as you could. The tears falling down your face was a release of fright. You realized something on that ground floor that you wish you hadn’t. That freckled stranger you had come upon, or who had come upon you, in Santa Barbara was becoming a meaningful person in your life. Unbeknownst to you! Ellie had snuck up on you like a rodent in disguise.

That distant figure that once hovered in dim lighting who you didn’t trust has become so much more. You trusted her with your fucking life. And it only took a few months on the road.

Having barely recovered from the threat of that shambler, she snatched her mask off like it was nothing. In those few second, your heart beat so loud it stalled time. You thought she was going to die right in front of you, willingly.

It took you back to a moment in your past—the death of your mother. Before you reached Catalina Island, your mother sacrificed herself to ensure that you made it there. She gave you her mask to take the spores head-on. Promising that she’d hold her breath; at fifteen, you were silly to believe her.

Just then, Ellie’s gasps proved your immediate worries and fears wrong. She wasn’t going to die in front of you like your mother did. The viral spores on that floor didn’t kill her. Making you wonder: who the fuck were you traveling with?

Wiping your face, messily, you wander back down the rusted steps of the bookstore. You spot her with both of your bags opened, going through the supplies you had. Counting under her breath. When her strained eyes caught yours, she ceased all movement.

“You know,” She began, looking at the hand that was missing her pinky and ring finger, massaging her palm. “I think, that was the most you’ve ever said my name.”

You frowned, walking through the aisles, cheeks stained with tears. “What the fuck was that back there?” The sound of your voice was weak and frail.

“A panic attack…”

“I’m talking about the mask, Ellie. You breathed spores…?”

She licked her lips, averting her olive eyes. “I’m immune…”

A beat passed between the two of you, roping around your still bodies.

Ellie watched how your lips quivered, like you wanted to cry. The redness in your eyes made her frown. “I just— in the moment… I couldn’t breathe. I needed to take it off—“

“How do you know?” You abruptly ask. “How do you know that you’re immune? What if it just… I don’t know… Takes longer to develop in your system?”

“y/n…” She remorsefully spoke. “I was bitten when I was fourteen.” Ellie rolls up the sleeve of her jacket, pushing her tattooed arm toward you.

Pressing your lips together, you walk forward, taking her arm in your hands. Her forearm was covered in evergreen ink. Taking your hand, she guided your fingers over the eruptions in her skin. Abrasions. Hidden beneath the adoration of the tattoo. You never noticed this before. “I had a lot of time to know if this was real…” Ellie muttered, peering at you. Insecurity leaking from her pores.

You met her eyes, opening and closing your lips, trying figure out the words you wanted to say. “Who are you?” You examined the features you’ve come to know. “And don’t walk away this time— you have no choice but to tell me.” A chortle falls from your lips, causing her stiffness in her shoulders to loosen.

And so, Ellie told you as much as she could. She told you about how she got bitten. She told you about Riley. She told you about Joel and Tommy—about the fireflies—and about Joel, again. She told you about Dina and Jesse. And then, she told you about Abby. The familiarity of her name caused you to perk up. You knew of her from the resort; it was her and a little boy. However, the version she told you about aligned nothing with the version that you knew of.

“I went to Santa Barbara because I wanted to put an end to my suffering and Tommy’s— I wanted to kill her.” Ellie confessed, leaning her head back against the books pushed into the shelves. The two of you sat opposite of each other in a book aisle, knees grazing every so often. “I thought that would fix everything… But, when I saw her on that pillar…” She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. “For a second, I wasn’t going to do it. She led me to that beach, holding that kid, and I was gonna leave.”

Ellie blinked, remembering that empty feeling she felt on that day. Guilt crawling through her for something that was never in her control. You watched her speak, intently, with deepened eyebrows. “Then, I remembered. I remembered what she did— what she took from me, and I couldn’t let her go. I threatened that little boy, and I made her fight me. She didn’t want to, but I made her.”

“Did you kill her…?” You asked, slowly.

She chortled, wiping her teary eyes. “No. She took my fucking fingers, and I let her go.” The laugh she released was dry, and without humor. “It was like… Everything that I’ve done, leading up to that day, was all for nothing. All the people that I hurt— that I killed just to get to her… It was all for nothing.” Her voice cracked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie couldn’t stop them this time.

You reached for her knee, caressing your thumb over the fabric of her jeans. She peered up at you, through her thick, wet eyelashes with a sort of surprise. Ellie didn’t think you’d stick around after hearing about her truth. You, a victim of the rattlers, empathizing with a murderer.

Before that, though, you were a firefly. You more than just a victim.

“How could I ever think of you as a bad person after what I’ve done?” She pressed her plump lips into a line, shaking her head. “That wasn’t what I meant at all… I was just trying to figure you out. I worded it all wrong— I’m sorry.” Ellie apologized with such frailty, you had no choice but to accept.

“Don’t be sorry, Ellie…”

“I’m beginning to realize I’m not really good with people.”

You squeeze her knee. “That’s not true. I think we get along great.” You shrug, attempting to lighten up the mood. Her lips curled at the corners, reaching for the hand on her knee, placing hers over yours. A silence bounced between you—eyes boring into each other’s, looking through each other. “I also think… You did what you thought was best…” You voiced, nodding affirmatively. “I probably would’ve, somehow, done worse.”

She scoffed, drawing circles on the back of your hand, absentmindedly. “Worse? You couldn’t have done worse.”

“You’d be surprised.” You lifted your eyebrows. “Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but as a firefly… When you’re told to do something, you do it.” Shrugging, you remove your hand from hers, crossing your arms. “I’m not a saint, Ellie. I’ve done loads of shit that I’m not proud of.” You looked down at your knees, frowning. “If some girl killed someone I cared about right in front of me… It would have been the last thing she ever did. Shit, I’ve killed people for less.”

You paused, eyebrows twitching. The image of a guardian angel came into your mind—Honey. “It should’ve been me in that house… In Santa Barbara.” Squeezing your eyes shut, tears began to fall down your cheeks once more. Angry, mourning tears. “It’s like… The Lord gave me second chance to do better— or was it fate? I don’t fucking know…”

Ellie blinked, having a severe déjà vu moment. Somehow the words spoken in her past, have managed to resurface. If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again. Spoken by your pretty mouth, instead of someone else’s. “I’d probably be just like Honey if it weren’t for you— dead. And I still don’t know what makes me worth saving, but I’m grateful. I’m grateful for you.” You sniffed, lips quivering while looking at the auburn-haired woman.

She swallowed, moving from her spot across from you to sit beside you. If only she had the courage to say those words to Joel. If only her resentment didn’t run so deep—perhaps, her guilt for his death wouldn’t be so strong. “Everything about you is worth saving… You’re like a lucky charm.”

You leaned your head back against the books, looking at her. “A lucky charm, huh?”

“Hell yeah! I mean, you totally whooped that shambler’s ass. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hitting her arm, you giggle, keeping your eyes on the bookshelf in front of you. “Seriously, y/n…” Her humored tone faded as she trained her eyes on the side of your face, urging you to just look at her. To meet her eyes as passionately as she wanted to meet yours. It could’ve been the vulnerability that pulsed around the room, but she needed to see you. Her body ached for touch—perhaps, your touch. Ellie needed consolation for her confession.

Finally, your eyes drift toward hers. Not realizing how close her body was to yours. Shoulders, arms, hips, knees touching as if you were conjoined by the hip. Her eyes were prettier close up. They were greener than the evergreen that grew up desolate buildings. The freckles on her damaged skin could be connected like constellations—how come you never noticed this before? You wanted to trace the scar over her top lip and the one in her eyebrow with your finger, not just with your eyes.

The only thing that could be heard was your uneven, nervous breaths. Ellie moved her face closer to yours, just enough to tease, to ask for your permission without using her words. Her olive eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes. Weakly, you nodded, chewing on the corner of your bottom lip.

Her hands settled on your face, pulling you to hers. Meeting her lips with your lips, softly and patiently. Placing your hands on her wrists, you pull away, analyzing her features. Full lips were parted, wantonly. Pushing forward, you resumed the kiss with more intensity.

Whining against her lips, you got onto your knees, kicking your leg over her legs. Settling on her lap, her hands moved to your hips, kneading them. Her lips beginning to trail down your jaw; they were wet and hot kisses, causing your hips to roll on their own. Pleasured sighs fled from your swollen parted lips, holding onto her shoulders. “Ellie— Ellie, are you sure about this?” You question, with your eyes fluttered shut.

Against the sensitive skin of your neck, she spoke. “Beyond sure…” She muttered, littering your neck with love bites. Then, she pauses, pulling back to look up at you. Her hands still on your hips, pulling them to a stop to get your attention. “Are you sure about this?” Her pupils were blown out, adoringly.

You massaged her tense shoulders, licking your lips. The sight of her made your skin warm and tingly. “I’m fucking sure.” You smiled, playing with ends of her auburn strands. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against hers again, with fervor.

The both of you needed this—human connection. Even if it was short-lived, or temporary.

Ellie pushed at the flannel over your arms, tossing it to the side. Then, it was your knit shirt. She rolled it up from your abdomen, you lift your arms so she could remove it. Lastly, was your sports bra. She pulled it over your head, eyes marveling at the sight before her. Her calloused hands ran down the bare sides of your back, lips trailing down your sternum.

Running your hands over her hair, she latched her lips around one of your nipples. Sucking and nibbling at the sensitive nerves. A moan escapes your throat, arching your back into her. Your hips buck on top of her lap, begging for her touch elsewhere. “My lucky charm…” She mutters against your skin, kneading your other breast.

You end up with your back on the hard floor of the bookstore. Your hands pulling off her clothes like your life depended on it. She pulled your pants off, leaving you both only in your underwear.

Ellie kissed you, again, pressing her chest against yours. Her knee slotted between your legs, pushing her thigh against your clothed core. You could feel her grinding against your propped up leg, moaning into your mouth. Calloused hand gripping the back of your thigh. Sloppily, your lips trail to the side of her face, airy moans releasing beside her ear. “Ellie, please, touch me…” Wantonly, you pleaded, clenching the roots of her hair.

With her hot lips against your jaw, nibbling at your ear, she obliged. Drifting her hand down the center of your bodies, rubbing you over your underwear. Propping herself up on her other arm, she peered down at you. A pout resting on your wet lips, narrowing your eyes at her. One-handed, she slides your underwear to the side, running her middle finger up your center. Spreading your slick over that sensitive bud awaiting her focus. Ellie chews on her bottom lip, watching you shudder under her touch. “Right there?”

You respond with the tremble of your thighs and the heaving of your chest. She cracked a charming smile, eyes hazing at the sight of you.

Slipping two fingers into your cunt, she moans with you, curling her fingers slowly. Your hands roam her toned stomach, squeezing at her breasts, but you were losing focus. “S— So fucking good— ah!” Pulling her fingers out of you, she lowered herself. Kissing the scars and bruises that littered your abdomen. Her movements briefly confused you, until you felt her mouth on the inner parts of your thighs.

She pulled your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. Then, she was on you, mouth hot over your cunt. Suckling on your clit, thrusting her tongue into you—eating you like she was starving. Your mouth fell ajar, grasping at her hair for something to hold onto. “Fuck, Ellie!” You whine, bucking your hips toward her face.

Her olive irises looked up at you between your legs, glimmering with lust. Arching your back, feeling that tightness coiling under your muscles, a lewd sound comes from your throat. Something between a moan and a yelp.

Sooner than later, your release comes crashing over you. Like a breath of fresh air. Legs clamping around her head, pushing her closer to your heat. Her lips making out with your pussy, bringing you down from your high. “Oh, my God…” You mutter, massaging her scalp with your fingers.

She crawls up your body like a lustrous lioness, letting your taste yourself on her lips. Your hands gripped at the fat of her ass, biting her bottom lip with your teeth. Ellie gasped, angling your face with her hand, groaning against your lips.

Sliding your index finger under the hem of her boxer-short underwear, you yank them down. “Damn…” Ellie mutters, kicking off her underwear the rest of the way. “You’re quick.” She chuckles, as you flip her onto her back. Running your lips down her neck, biting her skin.

“I want you… Can you blame me?”

You gripped at her hips, but when she winced you stopped. Peering down at her hip bone, a stitching remained there. Red and a little irritated. “It’s fine. Keep goin’, please.” Ellie tried, reaching for your hand.

Lowering your body, you kissed around the irritated wound, gently. Ellie watched you, chewing on her lip. Holding onto her hand, you kissed lower and lower. Through the hairs over her mound, the inner parts of her thigh—lightly over her cunt. She twitched, bashfully trying to shut her legs. But your hands braced her thighs.

Breathing her in, you licked a line up her center, making eye contact with her. An airy sound left her parted lips, free hand tweaking her nipples. “Yeah… Yeah…” She chanted, rocking herself against your face. You lick at her clit before sucking it into your mouth, her hips jolting at the feeling. Fluttering your eyes shut, you spend time on her sensitive bud, messily. Your non-dominant hand still holding onto Ellie’s, her grip tightening every second.

Taking your other hand, you insert your middle and ring finger into her core. Looking up at her reaction, while you made love to her clit. “Fuck, yes!” She enunciated her words lustily, drawing them out. Popping her bud from your lips, you begin to curl your fingers. Her wanton moans bouncing off the bookshelves around you.

“You’re so pretty like this.” You whisper, mainly to yourself, as you gaze at her in awe. Ellie was always so rough around the edges, but under you she was different. Her scarred body shook under you, in pleasure. She was in her element.

She moaned your name, riding your fingers. The muscles in her abdomen clenching, the grip on your hand getting harder. Taking that as your cue, you began to make out with her pussy. Only bringing her closer and closer to that breaking coil.

When the sparks in her stomach bursted into flames, a string of curse words fell from her lips. Her back arching off the hardwood floor, fingers pinching her tits. Her slick was all over your mouth, as you crawled back up her body.

Hungrily, she found your lips. Pushing your bare bodies together, you lazily made out—winding yourselves down.

Orange hues of the sun setting peaked through the windows, and the empty parts of the shelves. A burnt orange cast, glazing over your bodies like a blanket. Your legs intertwined, arms draped over shoulders, wrapped around waists; you were comfortable like this. Ellie was comfortable like this.

Parting your lips, she peppered small kisses along your jaw, before laying her head on your chest. “There’s a couch upstairs…” You breathe, playing in her hair.

“You say this now…?” She looked up at you, fingers rubbing circles on your bare hips.

A chuckle fell from your lips, your thumb caressing her flushed cheeks. “Heat of the moment!”

She sucked her teeth, nuzzling her head into your neck. “Whatever, you filthy woman.”

“Hey! You’re the one who took my clothes off.”

“You let me take your clothes off.” She nibbled at the skin of your throat, squeezing the fat of your hip.

You pressed your lips together, amused, running your fingers down her freckled back. “We could go up to the couch now.” You offered.

Ellie shook her head, hooking her leg around yours to pull herself closer to you. “No, just wanna lay here for a while…”

And you did just that. Laid with each other until your backs ached enough to move to the couch upstairs. Only to resume the position on the itchy cushions until the sun came back around to drag you both back onto the road.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie tlou #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff #mini series

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 14 days ago

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Heart Without a Home

Pairing: Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x f!reader, Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader Warnings: Angst, emotional infidelity. Word count: ~9k

Summary: Her and Aegon have been an item for three years, and she couldn't be happier, though she has grown to dread special occasions spent with his overbearing family, particularly his moody younger brother. A Christmas week with the Targtowers gets to the root of all of the ill feeling.

Author's note: Day twelve of Smuffmas - home videos and voyeurism. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

The dull morning light of late December winter filtered through the curtains that they never remembered to close, the room silent save for the sounds of their quiet breathing. Aegon laid naked in her bed, sprawled on his front across her body, his head rested upon her bare chest with his eyes closed as she cradled him. Her fingertips gently massaged his scalp in soothing circles. She could feel from the oil within the roots that he was a few days past the need for his hair to be washed. Ordinarily she wouldn’t care; she loved it when Aegon’s fluffy platinum hair was a little on the dirtier side, it sat flatter to his head and looked less unruly, retaining the scent of peppercorn and bergamot that seemed to cling to him, that she had grown to love.

Yet she knew she would have to tell him to wash it, if only to save him from the disapproving comments from the woman from whom he had inherited his wild mop of curls, though hers were a vibrant auburn. It was Christmas Eve, and they were due to travel back to Aegon’s family home for three days; the shortest possible amount of time that his mother, Alicent, would allow and the longest that he would agree to. His younger siblings, Aemond and Helaena, usually always arrived the day before and stayed right through until New Year’s Day. That would have felt like a prison sentence to Aegon, so a compromise had been settled upon, and she intended to ensure it was as painless for him as it possibly could be. That included pre-empting his mother’s criticism of his hygiene and encouraging him to wash his hair.

“Come on, sleeping beauty,” she urged softly, shifting slightly beneath him as she stroked her hands down his back, “you need to jump in the shower.”

“Mmmm…don’t want to,” he groused sleepily, clinging tighter to her, nuzzling further into her body.

She chuckled, attempting to push the dead weight of him from her but failed miserably. “We have to leave soon. If we aren’t there by lunchtime then we’ll never hear the end of it from your mum.”

“Oh, god forbid we aren’t there for her horrible smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels,” he bemoaned, rising slowly up on his elbows to look at her, his brow furrowed in an expression that she was sure was intended to convey his annoyance, but just appeared adorably tired and grumpy to her. God, how she loved that face.

“But,” she countered, tapping his nose lightly with her index finger, “you get to be warm under all that nice, hot water while muggins here has to coax your dopey mutt outside in the freezing cold and try to convince him to go for a piss. I’d say you’ve got the better end of the deal.”

Aegon smirked, rolling off of her and onto his own side of the bed, nearest the wall, where Sunfyre’s bed was. He peered over the edge, watching as the large golden retriever laid on his back, all four paws in the air, snoring quietly. “You know, if you and the hound wanted to head back for a few days, I’d be happy to stay here,” Aegon muttered quietly, giving Sunfyre’s paw a playful shake, which caused the dog’s eyes to open, his tail wagging enthusiastically as he saw who loomed above him.

She rolled her eyes, disentangling herself from the sheets and rising from the bed, beginning to rummage through her chest of drawers for something suitable to wear to take the dog outside in. “Very funny. Shower. Now.”

“Ugh, fine,” Aegon huffed, pulling himself from the mattress. He paused, still utterly naked as he stood in the doorway. “Will you at least have a bacon sandwich ready for me when I’m finished?”

She turned to him, a black hoodie clutched in her hands, and tilted her head, her tone one of mock confusion. “And spoil your appetite for your mum’s lovely smoked salmon?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he grinned before heading across the hallway and into the bathroom.

She laughed, turning her attention back to getting dressed.

Aegon’s playfulness had been what had first drawn her to him when they had met three years prior. There was a shitty, little live music venue that she frequented most weekends – The Blue Pearl – the sort of place that’s dingy, smelly, with damp in the walls, and toilets that are always blocked, yet somehow the bar still feels justified in charging the better part of six pounds for a pint that’s more line cleaner than it is beer. The night they had met there had been a local indie band playing there, which had drawn a crowd of less than twenty people. Aegon had burst through the doors, already half drunk, with three friends in tow and offered to buy drinks for every person in the place. That was how she knew he was different – nobody could afford to do that – this was the sort of place where if you were going to buy a drink from the bar, it would likely be a coke that you’d then add the vodka to that you’d snuck in inside a hip flask. His thousand watt smile had charmed her and, at the end of the night, when he’d insisted that he couldn’t possibly leave without a kiss and her phone number, she had known she was in trouble.

In the beginning, things hadn’t been that serious. Aegon was a party boy, and she knew she wasn’t the only girl he was seeing. She didn’t mind, and was happy to keep things casual, because he was fun to spend time with. But as time had passed, and feelings developed, she found herself the sole recipient of his affection and, therefore, was pulled deeper into his world, able to understand the full extent of the wealth he was born into and the trauma that that brought with it. Aegon rebelled against the status of his family, choosing to live in a rented house share with his friends, Martyn, Leon and Ed. The few times she had visited she had been disgusted by the squalor the four men had allowed the house to fall into. Once, Leon had bought everyone in the house a Cadbury’s Creme Egg as an Easter gift and Martyn had accidentally sat on his and squashed it into the sofa cushions. She had been horrified to find it still there when she’d visited again a few weeks later. There was also the crusty, old assortment of boxers and socks that covered the surface of the white, plastic picnic table that stood in the back garden; Ed had laid them out there to dry one sunny summer’s day, having done a rare load of laundry, and then just never bothered to bring them back inside. They were still there by Halloween.

She had been pleased when Aegon and Sunfyre had begun spending more and more time at her place, not just because it meant she didn’t have to endure the hovel that they lived in, but because the two of them made her cosy, little flat feel like a home. Now, she and Aegon basically lived together in all but name. He only ever returned to his place when he needed clean clothes or to cool off if they had argued.

Aside from coming from old money and, therefore, leading a lifestyle that was so extravagant it made her uneasy, Aegon’s family maintained a dynamic that was strained at best and volatile at worst. Thankfully, Aegon kept his visits limited to special occasions only, meaning they only spent time with the family for birthdays and Christmases. His mother was an anxious woman and, though it was clear she loved her children dearly, she was often overbearing, not knowing how to properly express her care for them all, so it often came across as needless fussing and nagging. Their father had passed away, and Alicent had remarried to a man named Criston. He was harmless enough, though so broodingly quiet that she went out of her way to avoid being left alone with him. Otto, their grandfather and Alicent’s father, was a stern man who reserved the harshest of his criticisms for Aegon. He disapproved of his decision not to join the family’s investment banking firm, regularly reminding his grandson that there was no stability in the events marketing startup that he had founded with his father’s inheritance money. Aegon’s brother, Aemond, was indifferent to the point of being cold, he offered little in the way of conversation, only speaking when spoken to, and seemed content enough to keep to himself. Besides Aegon, Helaena was her favourite of all the family. She wasn’t particularly warm, but her nature was gentle and if you engaged with her regarding a topic she found interesting, she would animate in a way that made her features light up as she talked excitedly.

Their father had a daughter, Rhaenyra, from a previous marriage. Though she had never met her, and she was never present at any of the gatherings she attended, her influence hung over them all like a shadow, creating contention and bitter resentment. Aegon liked a drink, but she hated how paralytic he allowed himself to become when visiting his family. A means to cope with the ill feeling, a way to make the time pass quicker, perhaps both, she couldn’t tell, but seeing him in that state broke her heart. He was damaging himself, but also reaffirming his family’s opinion that he was a waste of space. She knew he was anything but.

They just had to get through tonight and then Christmas Day, and then they’d be driving back home again by Boxing Day lunchtime. And if there was nothing else to look forward to, at least she could console herself with the abundance of gifts. Alicent always ensured that each of them had a huge pile to open. Hers were always fairly generic; high end skincare, an expensive bottle of bubbly, artisanal chocolates and designer label accessories, but each year there was also one that was so personal, so thoughtful, that it made her feel guilty for ever hesitating to come in the first place. The first year she had spent Christmas with them all, she had received a platinum bracelet inlaid with glittering sapphires, and last year she had been given a first edition of her favourite book, signed by the author. As dysfunctional as the Targaryens were, they were insanely generous to those closest to them.

***

The tyres of her little Fiat 500 crunched over the gravel of the driveway leading up to the property, the lengthy track was flanked by rows of perfectly sculpted hedges, beyond which sat acres of immaculately manicured lawn on either side. The drive from the gates at the roadside all the way to the house felt almost as long as the journey from her flat.

“Got enough petrol to make it up the drive?” Aegon asked, casting her a smirk from where he sat in the passenger seat, fingers drumming restlessly upon his knees.

“You make that joke every time we visit,” she sighed, turning the steering wheel to maneuver the vehicle as the gravel track curved around the large, circular fountain that stood at the front of the massive house.

“And I’ll keep making it until it gets a laugh out of you,” he quipped, turning to unclip his seatbelt.

Ordinarily, his earnest intent to make her smile would have made her heart melt, however, this time the sentiment fell upon deaf ears. She stiffened as the familiar feeling of inadequacy settled upon her like a stone as the faded red brick building, encased in trailing ivy leaves, came into view. As she had predicted, everyone was there already; outside was Alicent’s sleek, forest green Mercedes AMG GT, with Otto’s Rolls Royce Phantom and Criston’s Porsche Cayenne parallel parked at either end. She drove around to where Helaena’s sky blue VW Beetle was situated, with Aemond’s Triumph chopper propped precariously behind it, and pulled to a stop in front. It was the least intimidating of all the vehicles present, so she felt more comfortable leaving her beaten up little car there.

She turned the engine off and, as though sensing her discomfort, Aegon’s hand grabbed hers, intercepting her as she reached to unfasten her seatbelt.

“It’s just three days and two nights,” he reassured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “we’ve got this.”

No sooner were they out of the car and unloading Sunfyre and the bags from their respective places on the back seat and the boot, than Alicent was hurrying from the house, her long auburn curls flowing behind her.

“We were starting to think you weren’t coming,” she said, kissing them both on their cheeks in greeting. She paused, looking intently at Aegon as her hands smoothed his hair, before calling over her shoulder to her husband, who was already making his way towards them. “Criston, fetch the bags!”

“Hello, you two,” he greeted softly, divesting them of their luggage, “safe journey?”

Sunfyre’s excited bark came in place of an answer. The large, golden dog bounded across the drive and into the house, wagging his tail.

“Oh god,” Alicent said, frowning in concern, “I don’t think Aemond has locked Vhagar away.”

“Right then, shall we?” Criston asked with a raise of his eyebrows, as Alicent chased after the golden retriever.

Once inside, she caught a quick glimpse of a fluffy, black cat racing up the grand, wooden staircase in the foyer, with Sunfyre in hot pursuit.

“I’ll take these to your room,” Criston gestured with their bags, following the same way the animals had gone.

“Shouldn’t we go and get the dog back?” she asked, turning to Aegon.

He shrugged. “He’ll come back when he’s ready. If Aemond didn’t want Vhagar used as a chew toy, then he’d have kept her shut away.”

Placing a hand at the small of her back, he moved her further into the house. No matter how many times she visited she would never stop being awed by the sheer opulence of it. The floors were polished hardwood, a dark mahogany hue that matched the panelling of the walls, which stopped three quarters of the way up to make way for dark bottle green paint and brass sconces. Alicent had decorated for Christmas, in an understated and tasteful manner as always. A garland wrapped around the bannister of the stairs, complete with crimson bows, and sprigs of holly had been hung from each fixture on the wall.

“I couldn’t find the cat, but I’m sure Aemond will sort her out,” Alicent announced, appearing from the kitchen with an open bottle of champagne in her hand, “we’re just through here.”

She ushered them through to the dining room. A large, oval table sat in the centre of the room, draped in a green and gold table cloth, with candles in the middle and places set for seven people. A spread of bagels, cream cheese and smoked salmon was plated and ready for serving. The head of the table nearest the fireplace set into the far wall had been left empty as always, a mark of respect for Viserys, the deceased patriarch of the family.

Otto was seated beside the empty space, with Helaena opposite him. Her large African grey parrot, Dreamfyre, perched upon her shoulder. Helaena was busy tearing pieces off of a bagel and offering them to the bird, watching intently as her large black beak pecked indelicately at them.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that at the table,” Alicent complained, placing the champagne into an ice bucket as Otto rose from his seat to greet his grandson with a clapped hand on the shoulder, and his girlfriend with a chaste kiss on the cheek, before taking his seat again, and gesturing for them to do the same. She sat next to Otto, with Aegon on her other side.

“I’m not keeping her in a cage,” Helaena protested, looking up at her mother with a slight frown as she continued to feed Dreamfyre from her upturned palm. “Vhagar and Sunfyre get to roam freely.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, taking her own chair at the opposite head of the table, next to Aegon. Her fingers automatically moved to straighten her cutlery. “Well, this is the last time any of you bring your wretched beasts with you.”

“You say that every time,” Aemond said quietly, slipping into the room with Criston trailing behind.

“Well, this time I mean it,” she said frustratedly, rubbing her temples.

Aemond sat between Helaena and Criston, which meant he was directly opposite her. It was as though the cloudiness of his left eye somehow intensified the stare of his right, and she squirmed beneath the intensity of his piercing blue gaze, suddenly grateful when Criston reached across to offer her a flute of champagne, giving her an excuse to look away.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if Aegon would keep that fucking mutt of his under control,” Aemond snapped, shooting an accusatory glance towards his brother.

“Enough,” Alicent commanded, forking a slice of salmon onto Criston’s empty plate, “have you and Helaena even bothered to greet either of them yet?”

“Hello,” Helaena offered with a soft smile, “when did you get here?”

“Literally just arrived,” she replied, giving a quiet thanks to Aegon as he passed the salmon plate to her.

“That’s nice,” Helaena nodded.

“Not the word I’d use,” Aegon muttered under his breath, earning himself a stern look from Alicent.

She served herself, before passing the plate to Otto. He paused as Helaena held her hand out, refusing his attempt to dish out food for her.

“I’m vegetarian, Grandad, remember?”

Otto bristled, eyes moving from the salmon and then back to his granddaughter. “Oh…right. Well, I’m sure your mother can find you some ham in the kitchen.”

“Can’t eat that either,” she said apologetically as he sighed in exasperation. She finally relieved him of the serving platter and passed it to Aemond, who promptly set it back in the centre of the table.

“Are you not eating?” Alicent asked, leaning forward to look at him with large, imploring eyes.

“Had a protein shake after my run,” he explained curtly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right,” Alicent responded, her tone clipped with annoyance. She raised her glass in mock toast, “merry Christmas, everyone,” then took a swig before setting it heavily back upon the tabletop and beginning to spread cream cheese across a bagel in hurried, angry movements.

“Maybe you could set some salmon aside for Vhagar?” she suggested to Aemond with a slight smile, attempting to ease the tension.

“It’s smoked, it’s bad for her,” Aemond replied irritably, causing her to shrink once again under the weight of his scrutinising stare.

Looking to her side, dread formed like a stone in her stomach as she watched Aegon drain his flute of champagne – doubtless, the first of many. The rest of the meal passed in tense silence, until they were finally all excused.

The rest of the evening was awkward and uncomfortable, as Criston and Alicent busied themselves in the kitchen with meal preparation for Christmas dinner the next day, Aemond disappeared upstairs to his room, and Otto engaged Helaena in a game of Jenga that she seemed to be more interested in encouraging Dreamfyre to perch upon than actually play. That just left her with Aegon, and ordinarily she would love that, except for the fact that he had polished off most of bottle of champagne to himself at lunch, and had since demolished a bottle of red wine, so was now barely lucid as he sat next to her on the plush sofa, leaving her to watch Home Alone on the plasma screen TV by herself.

As the evening wore on, and everyone in the house slowly started making their way to bed, she decided it would probably be a good idea to attempt to relocate Aegon to his own room, instead of leaving him on the sofa where he was currently sprawled with his mouth open.

She leaned over him, gently shaking him. “Come on, Aeg, let’s go upstairs.”

He groaned softly in his sleep but didn’t move or wake up. She sighed in frustration, tucking her arm around him and attempting to lift him. His dead weight was too much for her and he flopped heavily back against the cushions after she’d only managed to raise his torso by a few inches.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she hissed in annoyance, raking a hand through her hair.

“Problem?” Aemond’s voice asked softly from behind her.

She turned, seeing Aemond holding an unlit cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other, clearly on his way through the living room to the French doors that opened out onto the patio of the back garden.

“He’s passed out and I can’t lift him,” she responded, her voice tired and resigned.

“Of course he is,” Aemond muttered with a roll of his eye. He pocketed his lighter and slipped his cigarette behind his ear, before moving towards the sofa. “Here, let me.”

She watched as Aemond crouched, tugged Aegon by his armpits into a seated position, and then hoisted him over his shoulder – his older brother's torso hung ragdoll down his back, while his legs draped across his front.

“Where do you want him?” he asked, his usually measured voice slightly strained under the weight of Aegon.

“Just in his room, need to put him to bed.”

She followed behind Aemond as he walked slowly through the living room, down the hallway and then up the stairs. It felt awkward to walk behind him in silence, but she supposed if there were ever a time for the pair of them to have their first proper conversation then it wouldn’t be when he was carrying her blind drunk boyfriend to bed.

Walking down the landing, he stopped at the third door on the left, gently pushed the door open with his foot before flicking the light on, then unceremoniously dumped Aegon onto the bed. His body bounced slightly as the mattress dipped and then righted with the force, but he remained fast asleep.

She looked around the room, seeing how neatly their bags had been left at the end of the bed. It was a shrine to Aegon’s adolescence; Blink 182 and glamour model posters were plastered across the walls, while lads’ mags and old beer mats were strewn across every surface. There was a framed photo that sat upon the bedside table, of a teenage Aegon grinning from ear to ear as he held Sunfyre as a puppy. Her gaze fell upon the dog bed in the corner, where he was sleeping.

“Shit, I forgot to take him outside for a piss before bed…”

“I’ll do it,” Aemond offered, leaning against the doorframe, “I was going out for a smoke anyway.”

“Thank you,” she smiled softly, turning back to face him as he whistled to get Sunfyre’s attention.

The dog stretched slowly out of his bed, his tail wagging lazily as he padded towards Aemond. “You know, you could use this as your get out of jail free card,” Aemond told her, his hand absentmindedly ruffling the dog’s ears.

“What do you mean?”

“Leave. While he’s still passed out. No one would blame you.”

She huffed in amusement, shaking her head. “I’m not ditching Aegon just because he’s had a bit too much to drink.”

Aemond eyed her appraisingly for a moment, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Hm. Lucky Aegon.” He turned away, patting his thigh as he walked, calling out to Sunfyre, “come, hound!”

She laid there feeling restless and irritated for ten minutes; Aegon’s snores made it impossible to even entertain the idea of falling asleep. She climbed out of bed, pulling the curtain back a fraction as she watched Sunfyre amble around the lawn of the back garden, illuminated by the security floodlight, cocking his leg against Alicent’s rose bushes.

As her gaze fell upon the patio she made eye contact with Aemond, his face turned up towards the window as smoke rose in a delicate spiral from the lit end of the cigarette he held between two fingers. She hadn’t expected him to be watching her and the sight made her heart skip a beat, a shocked gasp escaping her as she let go of the curtain, allowing it to fall closed again.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered to herself as she climbed back into bed, waiting for her pulse to stop racing in panic, “I hate it here.”

***

“Are there any coconut ones?” Helaena asked, kneeling on the carpet in front of where Aegon sat on the sofa, pawing through a tin of Quality Street.

“Disgusting choice, and all yours,” he responded, plucking out a few of the blue foil wrapped chocolates and dropping them into her upturned palms.

Helaena smiled happily, turning away and crossing her legs as she began to unwrap one of them.

It was Christmas morning, and Aegon had woken up surprisingly early and blissfully hangover free. She attributed it to how early in the evening he had passed out, though she didn’t feel so fresh herself, having been kept awake half the night by his snoring and her own anxiety over her encounter with Aemond.

He had said nothing to her that morning, simply sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading the news on his iPad. Aegon was not so serene, he had dragged Helaena out of bed and insisted she show him where their mother had hidden the Christmas chocolates.

“Oh, horrible children!” Alicent scolded, knotting her dressing gown at the waist as she entered the lounge and caught sight of the half empty tin of sweets. “What about breakfast?”

“It’s alright, Mum, I’ve got that covered. Here,” he plucked a Green Triangle from the container and carelessly sent it sailing towards her.

Criston stepped from behind her, reaching up and plucking it from the air before it could make contact with her temple.

“Unbelievable,” Alicent said in annoyance, throwing up her hands in resignation, “I don’t know why I bother.”

She looked guiltily at the pile of empty wrappers in her lap, then at Aegon, as Alicent stomped away with Criston in tow. “Maybe we should put them away.”

“Why would she buy them if she didn’t want us to eat them?” he argued, unwrapping a caramel swirl. “They aren’t just there for us to admire.”

“You aren’t supposed to sit and eat them all to yourself either, you greedy little shit,” Otto glowered, stepping into the doorway.

“Not to worry, grandad,” Aegon grinned, “I’ve got a toffee penny here with your name on it.”

“If you even think about throwing a chocolate at me, my boy, I will make sure you live to regret it.”

Helaena whipped around, wide eyed, and snatched the tin from Aegon, placing it on the carpet before slamming the lid back on. “We shouldn’t have these out if they’re going to upset people.”

“Good,” Otto conceded with a nod, “I trust the three of you plan on changing out of your pyjamas at some point today?”

“Would it be okay if I jumped in the shower?” she asked sheepishly, embarrassed to ask as she tried to ball up the sweet wrappers in her lap as discreetly as possible.

“There are four bathrooms in the house, dear, you don’t need to ask,” Otto responded with a curt nod, before ducking back out of the room.

She raked her hands through her hair, her mind feeling foggy with fatigue and her insides churning with a combination of too much early morning chocolate and dense unease. Aegon gripped her arm gently as she rose from the sofa, and she paused, turning to look at him.

“You’re in a mood.”

It was a statement, not a question. Aegon knew her too well, of course she was, but what was she supposed to say?

You got so fucking drunk last night that you passed out and basically left me alone on Christmas Eve, then kept me awake all night with your snoring.

Despite knowing what a tense situation this is, you’re not making it any better for yourself or anyone else by deliberately going out of your way to be antagonistic.

She said neither of those things. Now wasn’t the time to reprimand him or start an unnecessary argument; there’d be enough of those today.

“Just tired, missing our bed,” she replied quietly, offering him a small smile of reassurance.

“Course you are,” he grinned, releasing her arm with a wink, “I’ll make sure to tire you out properly tonight.”

Helaena made a noise of disgust, clapping her hands over her ears, and she used that as her excuse to leave the living room, and head upstairs to one of the bathrooms.

Just today to get through, then we can go home tomorrow, she thought as she sat on the edge of Aegon’s bed, wrapped in a towel, skin still damp from the shower.

She had left the door ajar, and as it creaked open she expected to see Aegon walk through. She jumped slightly as Aemond appeared in the doorway instead.

His seeing eye widened momentarily, before he cast his gaze towards his feet. “Fuck, sorry, door wasn’t closed, so I thought–”

“Aegon’s downstairs, if you’re looking for him,” she interrupted, not wanting to suffer through any further awkward apologies.

“I was looking for you, actually,” he replied, his eye darting quickly away again as it landed upon her once more. “Mum wants to do presents, and I was coming upstairs to grab this anyway—” he lifted his silver camcorder in explanation, “so she asked me to get you.”

She was grateful that they had both seemingly reached a silent agreement not to address the accidental eye contact through the window from the night before – the more she thought about it, the more she realised there wasn’t really anything to talk about anyway.

“Be there in a minute,” she said.

He nodded, stepping out of the room and closing the door fully behind him.

Every time she visited, Aemond had his video camera out at some point. Alicent had gushed to her once about all of the videos he had captured over the years of special occasions, how talented he was at framing shots perfectly and then editing the footage into something that captured the mood of those precious memories. In the three years she had been a part of their lives, she had seen him filming plenty of times but never actually gotten to see the finished product.

Once dressed and back downstairs, everyone was already gathered in the living room, It’s a Wonderful Life playing quietly on the TV. Otto sat in the armchair, while Helaena sat crossed legged at his feet, with Dreamfyre perched upon her shoulder. On the sofa on one side of the coffee table, Criston and Aemond sat at opposite ends, Criston slowly sipping a coffee while Aemond fiddled with his camcorder. Aegon reclined with his feet up, stretched out across the sofa on the other side, a hand lolling down onto the floor, absentmindedly stroking Sunfyre. Alicent knelt beside the huge Norwegian fir tree in the far corner of the room, its red and gold ornaments twinkling as she sorted gifts into piles.

She patted Aegon’s legs gently, and he lifted them enough for her to sit before resting them across her lap.

“Aegon…” she began, quietly enough for only him to hear.

“Mmm?” he jutted his chin upwards slightly, regarding her with a gentle raise of his eyebrows.

“You know Aemond’s video camera?” she ventured, plucking invisible fluff from the leg of his jogging bottoms.

“What about it?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Why don’t we ever see the videos he makes?”

“We do.”

She shook her head, keeping her tone hushed. “I never have.”

Aegon shrugged dismissively. “I guess not, but why does it matter? We don’t need to watch them, we were there, we know what happened.”

It wasn’t enough to sate her curiosity, but before she had the opportunity to press the issue further, Alicent ushered them over to the tree to grab their respective gifts.

Her and Aegon had exchanged presents at her flat the day before Christmas Eve, a means to preserve a piece of the festive period that was just for them, but also to ensure that the significance of their gifts for each other weren’t lost in the overwhelming abundance that his mother delivered on Christmas morning.

It was strange to her that everyone tore into their pile at the same time, rather than taking turns so everyone could see what everyone else had gotten, but as she watched Alicent perching on the arm of the sofa next to Criston, looking on with a soft smile as her children unwrapped their presents, she could understand why it was this way. Amidst the buzz of the sounds of tearing paper and gushing thank yous, it was the closest she had ever seen the family come to genuine happiness.

Alicent had gone way overboard for her as usual. She unwrapped Chanel No.5 perfume, a cashmere jumper, an Elemis skincare gift set and a pair of white gold hoop earrings. It was a large, flat present that piqued her curiosity the most though; it was heavy and solid, and as she pulled the wrapping paper away it took a moment for her to understand properly what it was; a map of the exact layout of the constellations in the sky on the day of her birth. Her lips parted slightly as she stared at it in awe, trailing her fingertips down the coolness of its smooth surface. Upon closer inspection, she could see that it was made of marble; a thin indigo slab which represented the night sky, with gold inlay mapping out the constellations. Tiny diamonds sparkled at each appropriate juncture, serving as the stars. Her breath caught in her throat, tears welling in her eyes at the thoughtful gesture.

It felt almost too personal, too intimate to be a gift from her boyfriend’s mother, and she wondered if perhaps Aegon had snuck another gift here for her. She patted at his leg gently, discreetly trying to get his attention as he was busy tugging the cap off a bottle of aftershave and giving it a sniff.

She turned the plaque towards him, tilting her head in silent question, but he simply shrugged, his bottom lip protruding slightly as he slightly shook his head to feign ignorance before turning his attention back to his own gifts.

“Wow…thank you, Alicent.” she said, looking across the room to where Alicent was sitting, watching as Helaena encouraged Dreamfyre to tear open a present with her beak.

“Oh, you’re welcome, love,” she replied, glancing up quickly with a bright smile, “I’m glad you like them.” Her attention then immediately went back to Helaena.

At Alicent’s quick dismissal, she looked around the room, everyone was preoccupied with their gifts or someone else’s, except for Aemond, who was filming – she hadn’t even noticed him start.

As the morning bled into early afternoon, Otto dozed in the armchair, while Helaena helped Criston and Alicent to cook Christmas lunch. The majority of her gifts had been put away upstairs, except for the plaque. She sat admiring it, unable to believe how beautiful it was, while Aegon sprawled out on the sofa, drinking Buck’s Fizz, with Sunfyre snoozing on his legs.

“I’m bored,” Aegon complained, causing her to look up from where she was sitting cross legged on the floor.

“Put something on the TV then.”

He wrinkled his nose, clearly unhappy with the suggestion. “There’s not anything good on. I think Aemond brought his Switch, we could play Mario Kart?”

“Guess you’ll have to ask him.”

“He’s always ages when he’s having a fag, just go and grab it from his room, he won’t mind.”

“You go and get it,” she retorted defensively, horrified by the idea as her voice raised an octave, “I’m not letting myself into your brother’s room and taking his belongings.”

“But look how sleepy Sunfyre is,” Aegon said, pouting his lip, “would you really be so cruel and make him move?”

“You’re so fucking lazy!” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Aegon laughed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Seriously, Aemond won’t care. But if he comes back in before you’re back down here, I’ll tell him what you’re doing, so he knows it was my idea. Sound good?”

She sighed, knowing he wouldn’t drop it until he got his way. She didn’t have the patience to listen to him pester her until Aemond came back inside, so she rose to her feet, placing her plaque on the coffee table as she stood. “So fucking lazy,” she muttered with a shake of her head as she left the room.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she climbed the stairs. She’d never been in Aemond’s bedroom before – she supposed it wasn’t really his room anymore, just the place he slept when he visited, but it was still his space and the idea of intruding upon it made her incredibly uncomfortable.

She paused as she reached his door, her hand hovering over the door handle, before drawing in a steadying breath and pushing it open.

The space was more orderly than Aegon’s was. One wall was simply book shelves, filled with rows and rows of hardbacks, there was a Deftones and a Tool poster stuck neatly upon the other walls, and Aemond’s computer desk and chair were tucked away in the far corner. At the centre of the room was Aemond’s neatly made bed. Vhagar lay curled up in the middle of the duvet. The fluffy black cat’s amber eyes cracked open to look at her inquisitively as she stood looking around the room, trying to figure out where Aemond would have put his Switch.

Bloody Aegon, she thought, until her eyes fell back upon the computer desk. Aemond’s camcorder sat upon the desktop, plugged into his open laptop. The case for his Switch lay next to it.

She walked over to the desk, fully intending to simply grab the Switch and then go straight back downstairs, but as she moved closer, the sight of her own face on the laptop screen captured her attention. It was a thumbnail of the video that Aemond had taken that morning within an open folder of multiple video files. She knew she shouldn’t snoop, it wasn’t her business, but seeing such a close up shot of herself made the urge to click irresistible.

The video started with a slow pan around the room, Alicent watching on as everyone else opened gifts. It lingered on Aegon for a moment, zooming in as he unknowingly leaned his face back at an unflattering angle, creating a double chin – she laughed at seeing this – then the shot moved to her, zooming out to capture her unwrapping the plaque, then zooming back in on her face, capturing her eyes welling up and the touched smile that tugged at her lips. The shot remained on her until the video eventually cut to black.

Her brow furrowed, a mixture of confusion and bewilderment stirring within her. Why was nearly the entire video of her? If Aemond was intending to create videos of happy family memories, then why focus solely on his brother’s girlfriend and not the people he was actually related to?

Unable to stop herself, she closed out of the video and clicked onto the next. This was one from back in the late summer, when Alicent had hosted a barbecue for Criston’s birthday. The camera panned around the back garden, with a brief zoom in of the meat sizzling on the grill, before zooming out again. When the camera fell upon her, it lingered, a full body shot at first, before gradually moving in upon her face, catching each sip of her drink, every time she touched her hair, or laughed.

“You looked beautiful that day.”

“FUCK!” she yelped, jumping as she turned wide eyed with fright to see Aemond standing behind her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said calmly, “but you are in my room after all.”

She watched in disbelief at how unbothered he was as he moved to sit on the bed, ruffling a hand through Vhagar’s fur. The cat chirruped happily, the noise an obscenely cute contrast to the clawing dread in the pit of her stomach and the wild pounding of her heart against her ribcage. An acrid taste filled her mouth, sour and unpleasant, as she struggled to get the words out, wanting to understand why he’d been filming her.

“What the fuck?!” was all she was able to choke out.

“It’s not anything perverted, don’t worry,” he reassured her.

That was what worried her. She knew Aemond wasn’t being a creep, the videos hadn’t lingered on her breasts or anywhere that wasn’t her face. It would be easy to deal with, easier to shrug off if she could just explain it away as Aegon’s younger brother being a pervert, but this seemed like something deeper than that, and that scared her.

“Are…are they all like that?” she asked quietly, her voice trembling.

“All the ones since I met you, yeah,” he admitted.

“Jesus christ,” she whispered, putting her head in her hands. A dozen different questions raced through her mind, none of them she was certain she wanted the honest answer to. She wanted to be out of this room, away from Aemond, to forget what she’d seen and everything he’d told her.

“I know how it must seem, but–”

“I don’t care how it seems, I don’t want to hear it,” she cried, grabbing the Switch case and bolting from his room. She took the stairs two at a time, her face burning hot and a lump forming rapidly in her throat.

Alicent and Criston had made a tremendous effort for Christmas lunch; an enormous turkey sat in the centre of the dining table, alongside a nut roast for Helaena, with side dishes of roasted chestnuts, potatoes, brussels sprouts, stuffing, carrots, gravy and cranberry sauce all in abundance.

Despite how delicious it all looked, she couldn’t begin to fathom eating any of it. Her stomach churned, she felt shaky and nauseated, her mind unable to focus on anything besides the videos she’d seen on Aemond’s laptop. The calmness of his reaction had unnerved her. Regardless of her lack of appetite, she kept her focus fixed upon her plate, determined not to look up and see him as he sat opposite her. She poked aimlessly at a carrot, pushing it around on her plate.

“You okay?” Aegon whispered, leaning across to her, “You’ve not eaten anything.”

“Oh no, do you not like the food?” Alicent asked with concern, having overheard.

She raised her head, immediately feeling guilty as she saw her mother in law’s brow furrowed in worry. The last thing she wanted to do was insult her cooking when she’d gone to all this effort.

“It’s lovely,” she said, forcing a polite smile, “just feeling a bit hot. I might pop out for some fresh air before I finish my plate.”

“I can make you something else, if you’d prefer?” Alicent offered.

She hated the silence that had fallen around the table, hated the eyes she could feel upon her.

“Really, this is delicious,” she reassured, slowly rising from her seat, “just need some air.”

She gently brushed off Aegon’s hand as he reached for her, offering him a tight smile as he looked up at her with a puzzled look upon his face. “Back in a sec.”

The cold air against her skin felt like the prick of a thousand tiny needles as she stepped outside, wrapping her arms around herself. She huffed out a shaky breath, sending a plume of white billowing outwards in front of her. She tried to keep her focus on the rose bushes that framed the perimeter of the lawn, a means to ground herself and draw her focus elsewhere, to anything but Aemond. She wanted to go home. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, of the fact that she had unearthed something that now couldn’t be undone.

Hearing the French doors to the patio open and then close gently from behind her, she sighed, her shoulders sagging as she rolled her eyes, not bothering to turn around. “Honestly, I’m fine, Aegon, just go back inside.”

“It’s not Aegon, it’s me.”

She froze, the sound of Aemond’s voice made her heart lurch, but her initial shock quickly morphed into anger and she whipped around to face him. She watched as he cupped his hand around his lighter, the brief flicker of the flame casting an orange glow over his sharp features as he lit his cigarette.

“You shouldn’t have followed me out here.”

He narrowed his eye, observing her silently as he blew a tight line of smoke out through pursed lips. “Bold of you to assume that. I always have a cigarette after I’ve eaten.”

“If Aegon catches us–”

“If Aegon catches us, then what? What is there to tell him?”

“I don’t know, but something about this feels wrong.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, so there’s nothing to tell him.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ve managed to say nothing for three years,” he replied with a shrug, taking another pull on his cigarette.

“Christ, Aemond, what does that even mean?!” she demanded, losing all patience, as she threw her hands up in irritation.

“It’s better that you don’t know,” he admitted, averting his gaze and exhaling smoke slowly through his nose.

“If it concerns me then I have a right to.” She folded her arms across her chest, staring at him defiantly.

His head snapped up, nostrils flaring as he advanced upon her, causing her to take a step back. “You want to know? Fine. Being around you is fucking torturous.”

“I—I’m sorry…” she stammered, as her heart hammered wildly in her chest, tendrils of fear creeping along her spine.

“No, I am,” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, “because I’m so irrevocably, incomprehensibly, driven to the brink of insanity, in love with you that every moment I’m with you I spend cursing my luck that Aegon met you first.”

Her breath hitched, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her lips parted in shock. She stared at him in wide eyed disbelief, as he gazed back in saddened resignation, his cigarette burning to ash between his fingers.

“You can’t…we can’t,” she stammered, “I’m with Aegon, I can’t…”

“I’m not asking you to,” he whispered sadly.

“So now what?”she asked, her voice trembling as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“You go back inside,” he replied, reaching up with his free hand to wipe her tear away with the pad of his thumb. The gentle touch made her skin tingle. “And you say nothing, and I continue to love you from afar, just as it’s always been.”

Her feet carried her on autopilot, she felt numb, but paused in the living room to wipe her eyes and compose herself before heading back to the dining room. She grabbed for her wine glass as she took her seat once more, downing its contents in a single gulp and relishing in the way the burn in her throat and chest gave her something else to focus on.

Aegon grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close. “Glad someone’s found their Christmas spirit!”

God, how she wished that were true.

She felt like a spectator in her own body for the rest of the day, going through the motions but not really participating, simply acting on autopilot. She barely registered the arguments over post Christmas lunch board games, for once grateful that Aegon was so plastered he hadn’t noticed how far into herself she’d retreated. She kept stealing glances at Aemond, unable to believe his confession to her in the garden earlier. He was never someone she would ever have considered as a romantic prospect, because he was just so closed off. Now she found herself studying the way his snowy hair fell across his forehead, the sharp angles of his side profile, the gentle curve of his lips. She hated herself for it, as though on some level she was being unfaithful, even though she hadn’t asked for any of this.

Not even Aegon’s snoring was enough to penetrate through her wall of thought as she lay in bed with him that night. Aemond didn’t know her, not really, so he couldn’t love her. It was a silly crush, he’d get over it, and everything would be back to normal the next time they descended upon Alicent’s house for a visit. She kept the reassurance on a loop in her mind, allowing it to lull her into an uneasy sleep.

She didn’t think she had ever been so glad to pack a bag the following morning, as her and Aegon readied themselves to leave. She couldn’t wait to see the back of this place, to forget about all of this and just get back to the cosy life that she and Aegon shared together.

“Gonna have one last hurrah in mum’s rain shower,” Aegon told her, grabbing a pair of socks from his bag and giving them a sniff to make sure they were clean, “see how much of a dent I can put in the hot water before we set off.”

“Alright, but don’t be too long, I wanna get on the road soon.”

“You’re even more desperate to leave than I am,” he said, studying her carefully, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she reassured him, stepping towards him and winding her arms around his neck, “just keen to get the drive over with, you know how much I hate it.”

He smiled, giving her a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. “How could you hate it with me as your passenger princess? I’ll think up a playlist while I’m showering.”

She was zipping her bag up, looking around Aegon’s bedroom to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, when there was a gentle knock on the partially open door.

“Come in,” she uttered distractedly, grabbing Sunfyre’s tennis ball from under the bed.

She righted herself, stiffening when she saw it was Aemond. He hovered in the doorway, his posture one of awkward uncertainty as he held the plaque she’d unwrapped the day before in his hands. “You left this on the coffee table downstairs. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget it.”

“Oh, right…thanks,” she said quietly, taking it from him and wrapping it in a jumper before placing it in one of the bags.

“I just wanted to–”

“Listen, I–”

Both of them smiled coyly, before Aemond gestured towards her. “You go.”

She gave a nod, stepping closer to him. “Look, I just wanted to apologise for overreacting yesterday. It’s just a silly crush, and I’m sure with time it’ll fade.”

“Don’t do that,” he said with a frown.

“Do what?”

“Diminish my feelings.”

“I’m not, but you don’t even know me…”

“Did you like my gift?”

“What?”

“The plaque, you seemed quite choked up by it yesterday. And the book the year before that, and the bracelet the year before that.”

“Those were all from you?” she asked, her chest suddenly feeling too tight as her stomach churned with shock and unease.

“Yes, so I’d say I know you rather well. What did Aegon get you?”

“Headphones.”

Aemond cocked an eyebrow. “Very thoughtful.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, mirroring his stern tone from earlier.

He sighed. “Sorry, I’m not trying to mess things up for you guys.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“I just want you to be happy, and if it’s Aegon that makes you happy then I’m content with that. I know my love is wasted, but if you’ll allow it, let’s just carry on as we have been. It seems to have worked for us so far.”

She softened at his words, and he reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She found herself squeezing back, committing to memory how his palm sculpted to her own, his fingers covering hers.

“In another lifetime,” she whispered sadly, drawing back.

“In another lifetime we’d be fucking great together,” he smirked, “until next time.”

She watched as he disappeared from the room, fighting the urge to cry, knowing that Aegon would be out of the shower any minute.

As she settled into the driver’s seat, the car packed up and goodbyes exchanged, Aegon turned to her. “Told you we’d got it,” he said with a proud smile.

Yet as his hand reached for hers, squeezing it in reassurance, she could only think of how different it felt to Aemond’s.

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bumblesimagines · 8 months ago

Text

The Wolf's Guard

Request: Yes or No

Summary: The love between a wolf and their darling is unbreakable, even if that darling is a Bolton.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

~~~

If the Starks were known for anything, it was their honor, duty, and family values. Everyone in all of Westeros knew it, from the poor to the rest of the Great Houses, as many had bore witness to those traits at play. The wolves of the north, the pack that'd once been called Kings, had bent the knee willingly during Aegon's Conquest and from then on, were known as Wardens of the North.

The glorious House Stark of Winterfell. Robb still vividly remembered the days in which he and his bastard brother, Jon Snow, were taught the history of their ancestors. Brandon the Boisterous, Cregan Stark, Rodwell Stark, Rickard Stark... Robb knew their names well, knew the significance of their importance to his bloodline. They were his ancestors, warriors with wolf's blood coursing through their veins, and blood that ran through his. Just like them, Robb is heir to Winterfell, the firstborn son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. And while Robb's heart valued honor, duty, and family over all else, there were times when he wished he hadn't been born first.

The first time he took his mind off his duty as heir (a duty everyone constantly reminded him of every waking moment) was when Roose Bolton brought his second-born son, (Y/N) Bolton, to Winterfell when they were children to become a ward under Eddard Stark. He'd heard about the stories and rumors surrounding the family and their ancestral home, the Dreadfort. Their history was as lengthy as the Starks, with their own ancestors having been once called the Red Kings. While Starks were honorable, Boltons were cruel, cunning, and dishonorable with a tradition of flaying their enemies that they were forced to give up upon being bannermen for the Starks. However, there were rumors they still flayed their prisoners after days and weeks of torture.

Robb and Jon exchanged whispers while their father spoke with Roose Bolton, an unremarkably ordinary-looking man despite the eerie aura that surrounded him and his sons. His eyes were striking, a color so pale and odd that they made shivers run down the spines of the two boys when he looked in their direction. But the prickle of uneasiness that poked at Robb vanished when (Y/N) looked toward him. Jon immediately ducked behind the barrel they'd chosen to hide behind but Robb held his gaze and was rewarded with a grin.

"Robb," His father had called out, "Come."

Robb immediately obeyed, jumping out from behind the barrel and striding over to his brother. At the age of seven, Robb knew his place as heir very well so he made every attempt at showing everyone the manners and way of nobles he'd been taught. Ned placed a comforting hand over his shoulder and smiled down at his son. "Why don't you show (Y/N) around Winterfell, Robb? His father and I have much to discuss."

"Yes, Father." Robb nodded, his auburn curls bouncing off his forehead. Domeric Bolton, eldest son of Roose and heir to the Dreadfort, similarly set his hand over his younger brother's shoulder. (Y/N) peered up at his father and then at his brother, lingering even after Roose gave him an approving nod.

"Go on," Domeric murmured gently and (Y/N) looked back at Robb with a growing smile.

Robb spent the rest of the day showing (Y/N) around Winterfell, his chest puffing out with pride each time (Y/N) seemed impressed about something. Jon and Theon trailed after them, providing input that (Y/N) largely ignored in favor of giving Robb his full attention, something surprisingly made him squirm. He finished the tour by introducing (Y/N) to his mother and his younger sister, Sansa. Catelyn greeted (Y/N) politely, more kindly than she treated Jon at least, and offered to get some sweets for them after dinner while Sansa clung to her skirts and watched them.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the boys were giggling on a stack of haybale after their latest mischief that Robb had a thought that would continue to emerge: 'I wish he were a girl.'

As they grew and reached their fifteenth name days, they both began showcasing the faithful traits of their house. Robb grew gentler, less mischievous, and showed a strong sense of honor. He continued reading his histories and studied faithfully under the septa, training nearly every day with Ser Rodrick Cassel and accompanying his father whenever he ventured out on hunts or to meet with others. (Y/N) seemingly grew a taste for blood, something that emerged during training. He went easier on Robb than the others, incredibly apparent as Theon and Jon would end up bruised and bloody by the end of each session. But despite Theon's complaints and Jon's worries about (Y/N) fatally injuring someone, Robb could never shake the astonished, fluttery feeling whenever he saw (Y/N).

"Come on, boy," Ser Rodrick called to the staggering Jon and Robb couldn't help but wince at the trickle of blood going down his nose. Jon wiped it away, his black hair clinging to his dirt-speckled sweaty face. Nobody had to look at Theon to know the boy likely looked pale as winter snow. (Y/N) pointed the - thankfully - wooden sword at Jon and cocked his head to the side, a wide grin across his face.

"What's wrong, Snow?" (Y/N) taunted, and Jon glared at him, throwing aside his sword and marching right up to (Y/N). The Bolton laughed when Jon grabbed the sides of his chest armor, his teeth digging into his bottom lip before he rammed the end of the sword into Jon's temple. Jon cursed loudly and released him to grab the side of his head, the blow working as intended when (Y/N) slammed his foot into Jon's chest piece and knocked him back.

"I believe that's enough, aye, lad?" Robb straightened up at the sound of his father's voice, craning his neck to watch Ned step out of the nearby building and approach them with a grimace. He gently clapped the back of (Y/N)'s shoulder to congratulate him, his eyes remaining locked on his bastard son's panting form. "Go see Maester Luwin, Jon."

"May I have a word in private, Lord Stark?" Ser Rodrick asked, earning a curt nod in response. (Y/N)'s eyes followed the two older men as they walked further away from them, their voices drowned out by the hustle and bustle of servants working and guests chatting. His lips formed a noticeable pout, one that made Robb chuckle as he helped take the chest piece off him.

"They're going to send me home." (Y/N) muttered bitterly.

"They won't," Robb assured him, handing the piece off to a nearby servant and giving them a thankful smile. (Y/N) huffed, the air coming out in a small cloud, and he tossed the sword aside into the dirt beside them. Robb caught a brief look at the knitted brow, sullen expression on his face before (Y/N) turned on his heel and stormed away. Immediately, Robb followed without a second thought, keeping his eyes focused on the boy until they reached the Godswood.

"Leave me alone, Robb." (Y/N) muttered grumpily, slumping down on the ground beside the water and roughly tugging blades of grass from the ground.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Robb responded, taking a seat beside him and gazing out into the water. The Godswood had always been a place to seek peace or advice from the Old Gods, a place Robb could visit to clear his mind or simply escape for a brief moment. (Y/N) pursed his lips and Robb smiled, pressing his fingertip against (Y/N)'s cheek and gigging softly when he swatted at his hand. "Come on, tell me."

"Nobody here likes me. They're scared of me." (Y/N) said quietly, tugging more grass out of the dirt. "Lord Eddard is going to send me home to the Dreadfort, I know he is. Father's going to be mad at me but at least Dom will be there."

Robb stared at him, noticing the way he pressed his lips together to stop them from quivering. "I like you." He revealed softly and (Y/N) tilted his head toward him, eyes flickering between Robb's vibrant blue eyes. Robb's stomach twisted and turned, heat rising up his neck and covering his ears like fire.

"How much?"

"A lot." He admitted, the branches above them gently rustling together with the wind. The sound eased his nerves, eased the dread threatening to bubble up and consume him. "If you were a lady, I would ask Father to let us wed."

(Y/N)'s lips curled up at that. "The Old Gods do not care if we're both men, Robb." He reminded him, that familiar grin working its way onto his face. Robb smiled again, setting his hand over (Y/N)'s and putting an end to his constant grass tearing. "Would you kill for me, Robb?"

"To protect you, yes," Robb answered immediately, no poundering needed. He'd kill to protect any of his loved ones. His parents, Jon, Theon, Sansa, little Arya and Bran. His father spilled blood for his late sister, Lyanna, during the rebellion and Robb doubted his father wouldn't do it all over again for her. "Would you?"

"If you asked." Then, (Y/N) leaned forward and clumsily mushed their lips together, sending a jolt down Robb's spine and a heat throughout his face. He'd kissed a young lady once or twice in secret and out of curiosity but despite his brief experience, he moved nervously and just as clumsily.

Things rapidly changed from then on, behind closed doors at least. To the servants and residents of Winterfell, the two remained the same close friends as always, but away from prying eyes and curious ears, they were inseparable lovers. Robb's lingering stares grew and any ladies his mother asked him about were brushed away for one excuse or another. The sneaking around, the subtle touches, and innocent gestures, it was all exciting for them but Robb grew to prefer how hungry (Y/N) always seemed for him. It felt good to be wanted, felt good when he whispered loving confessions and laughed at (Y/N)'s eye rolls and flustered smiles.

Until, as quickly as their relationship began, they were just as quickly swept away from each other.

Not long after (Y/N) sixteenth name day, news arrived at Winterfell of Domeric Bolton's death. An illness in the stomach, the first letter from Maester Uthor read, but the letter from Roose informed him of a new family member who'd potentially caused the death of his brother: a half-brother by the name of Ramsay Snow—a bastard of the North. With Domeric dead, the title of heir fell on (Y/N)'s shoulders and took him away from Winterfell and back to the Dreadfort. Jon and Theon eased with his absence but Robb's heart broke into pieces. As a secondborn, (Y/N) could do as he pleased and remain by Robb's side forever if he wished, but as an heir?

As much as his absence pained him, Robb ensured to write (Y/N) many letters, most with secret messages only the two of them could understand. He detailed any events that'd gone on, small or big, silly or tragic. He wrote to him about the pups found by Jon and the one he'd claimed, about the royal visit at Winterfell and his father's new position as Hand, Jon joining the Night's Watch, the saddening news of his sister's wolf being killed. The letters stopped when Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell called the bannermen to war.

Robb focused on the war, on avenging his father and bringing his beloved sisters home before they could be harmed by the Lannisters. The Bolton's joined the effort, of course, but Robb hardly saw (Y/N) during the start. They both had their duties, their own men to command, and many more things to worry about. But, the reunion had Robb nearly collapsing.

He'd seen him, caught a brief glance during a battle with Lannister's army. It'd been enough to make him fight even harder, and they'd won in the end, returning back to camp to treat their wounded and count the dead. Robb had been swept away, his new title as King of the North forcing even more responsibilities onto his lap, but he managed to keep his racing mind focused enough to manage the tasks at hand, nearly forgetting about the glimpse until that night.

Dragging the wet rag over his sword, Robb thought about his father. He thought about all the things Ned would say to him, the advice he'd give to him. His father knew of battles and rebellions, he knew of war. Robb only knew what he learned as the war progressed. Sure, there were many older men who'd fought alongside his father, who still had the taste of war in their mouths, but none would compare to the knowledge of Eddard Stark. He sighed quietly, gazing over his reflection and failing to hear the person entering his tent.

"King of the North, aye? Has a pretty ring to it." He tensed immediately, first due to surprise and then because of that familiar voice. His head whirled around, eyes wide and heart pleading. (Y/N) grinned at him, splatters of blood still covering his skin and clothes from a battle the Boltons and few others had ridden out to, but it suited him perfectly. The sword fell with a loud clatter and Robb darted up from his seat, unable to restrain himself from flying into (Y/N)'s embrace. "Missed me, hm?" He laughed.

"Of course, I missed you, you bastard." Robb exhaled, leaning back to grasp the sides of his face, disregarding the blood that smeared onto his palms before he crashed their lips together. An almost animalistic growl-like noise emitted from (Y/N) throat and he kissed him back more roughly, as were most things with (Y/N). The Bolton backed him up until Robb fell back onto the bed, briefly knocking the air out of him. (Y/N) hovered above him, eyes glinting with a familiar look that sent heat rushing to his stomach.

"Sorry 'bout Lord Eddard, Robb." He murmured, dipping down to brush his lips over Robb's cheek and down to his throat where he dug his teeth lightly into him.

"I heard of your half-brother, (Y/N)." Robb sighed again, the familiarity of it all making him lightheaded. His beloved had always been all tongue and teeth. (Y/N) snorted softly into his throat, a short chuckle leaving him at the mention of Ramsay's demise. He'd died in his sleep, or so Lord Bolton had said.

"Never liked him, anyway." (Y/N) told him, rising back up to press their lips tightly together, teeth digging into Robb's bottom lip and tugging lightly. "I have news, Robb."

"Can it wait?" Robb knew the answer but he hoped pulling (Y/N) closer would change his mind. (Y/N) chuckled again and moved his hips, a lazy smirk spreading across his face when Robb cursed softly under his breath and reached down to fumble with their pants.

"No, My King."

"Gods, you're the worst."

A sadistic little bastard but Robb loved him anyway. (Y/N)'s amusement faded away and he inhaled heavily, planting his hands on the sides of Robb's head and staring down at him. The seriousness made Robb straighten up, despite their rather compromising position, and he nodded for (Y/N) to continue. "My father plans on betraying you, Robb. Your rejection of Walder Frey's girls gave way for Father. He plans on marrying one of his daughters for an alliance. He wants to kill you." Robb's blood ran icy cold. War always had its fair share of traitors and cowardly, slimy men.

"Are you certain?" Robb sat up in the bed, forcing (Y/N) to lean back and stand again. A traitor in their midst and Walder Frey's ego. Two problems Robb hardly had time to deal with. (Y/N) reached out, fingers dipping under Robb's chin and tilting his head up.

"Give me your command and I'll bring his head to you by early morrow."

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feyhunter78 · 9 months ago

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Description: During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival. A thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together. Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion sees the need for a sworn sword in his beloved daughter's life.

Ch 2

You should know better, truly you should, but you’ve always had a weakness for pitiful-looking creatures, or at least that’s what your father has always said. He stands a pace ahead of you, watching as your uncle, the King Robert, embraces Lord Ned Stark with a boyish joy you have never seen in your uncle. Your Aunt Cersei stands to the side of them, smiling politely at the Lady Catelyn Stark, Joffery all but hanging from her skirts, demanding attention. Usually, you would scowl at the back of the boy’s head, but the sight of Ned Stark’s bastard son has you quite distracted.

He is pitiful, even his name, Jon, it’s so common, so often used it cannot differentiate him from others. He stands stiffly, with gray eyes so dark they almost seem black set beneath thick brows. He has curly dark hair that frames his face, an unchanging frown upon his face, and his hands clasp and unclasp nervously as he watches the mingling of your two families. Jon’s dressed like all the other Starks, but somehow lesser, as if he has chosen only the drabbest of colors in an effort to blend into the dreary landscape. There’s a solemn softness to him that intrigues you. What secrets does he keep? Why does he look so mired in grief? He notices your gaze, and his face tints pink as he ducks his head further into the fur collar of his cloak. You bite back a laugh, for a moment he looked like a turtle.

The boy beside him, Robb, stands an inch or so taller with cornflower blue eyes, and auburn hair. The clear son of Lady Catelyn radiates confidence, nearly bordering on arrogance, as he surveys the servants unloading your family’s belongings from the wheelhouses. Beside him stands a boy whose arrogance you wouldn’t mistake for confidence, even if you were less astute than you are. But the arrogance rings false, you can see the cracks in his bravado, the insecurity leaking from every pore. It’s in the way he hovers so close to Robb, as if he fears to be away from him would be his undoing. This one you know inside and out; your father had drilled you on everyone you were going to meet before you even stepped foot outside King’s Landing.

Theon Greyjoy, last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, a war prisoner disguised as a ward, the closest companion to Robb Stark, both accepted and held at a distance, Lord Stark’s sword an ever-looming threat should his father ever revolt once more. Theon has eyes like the sea and tousled hair the color reminiscent of the mahogany desk in your father’s study. He is lankier than the other two, hungrier, and when your eyes meet his, he winks. You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in response, you were a lady, a Lannister, you were not so easily swayed. Theon is handsome, but if your father’s reports were true, he spent much of his time in brothels. The tactics that worked there would not work on you.

“And this is my eldest daughter, Sansa.” Lord Stark says, motioning to a girl that was perhaps two or so years younger than you. She is beautiful, with fiery red hair, eyes like Robb’s, and high, graceful cheekbones. She curtsies with the air of a Southern lady, and smiles when you do the same. This is who you are meant to befriend, and it does not seem it will be too difficult, Sansa’s eyes eagerly drink in every aspect of your being, as if she wishes to glen all she can of Southern life before it is ripped away from her.

“She is as beautiful as her mother.” Your father says, giving her then Lady Catelyn a smile.

They both thank him, Lady Catelyn beaming at the praise, while you notice Sansa’s cheeks flush with color. She is easily flattered; you must remember that.

“Allow me to introduce my own daughter, Y/N Lannister.” Your father introduces you, putting emphasis on your surname, the very fact that you have one. You are not a bastard, no matter what awful Joffrey likes to say. Your mother and father had married in secret, she died giving birth to you, it was tragic and left your father quite saddened, but you were not a bastard.

Your eyes dart back to Jon taking him in subtlety. You wish to see him blush again, but you will not make your actions so easily observed.

“It is too cold, why must we stand here all day?” Joffrey whines, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping his foot resoundingly.

Your aunt fusses over him, and Lord Stark leads you all inside, talking jovially with your uncle as you hurry to catch up with your father.

It is loud in the Great Hall of Winterfell, made of gray stone and smelling of smoke, meat, and a hint of dog, which you must assume is from the Direwolves. It is well lit and filled with people, all enjoying the bountiful feast set before them on long wooden tables. You’re seated away from your father, something you despise. He is closer to your Uncle Jaime, nearer to the King and Lord Stark, while you have been seated with the other children. It has only been you and your father for so very long, a part of you feels anxious to be separated from him, but you are a Lannister, if you cannot charm the strangers around you then can you truly call yourself such?

“Will you tell me more of King’s Landing, Lady y/n?” Sansa asks, looking enraptured by the mere thought of it. She is dressed in a gown of blue silk, her fur lined cloak on the back of her chair, her hair done up in a style you’re quite familiar with. She is very beautiful, and you spot many men staring at her, one of them being Theon who is seated at the lower tables. You catch his eye and smile knowingly. In response, he scowls and ducks his head.

You must mention this observation to your father.

You smile and return your attention to Sansa, regaling her with tales of festivals and feasts, of tourneys and services in the Great Sept. Her siblings either listen as well or turn their attention elsewhere, which you don’t mind. They are not who you are here to befriend.

Sansa sighs dreamily and turns her gaze to Joffrey, who is seated next to his mother further up the table and is staring down at his food as if it has offended him. “And what of Joffrey? Surely you must be close?”

Your cousin, and closest companion, Myrcella snorts into her drink, and you shoot her a look. Myrcella was meant to be sitting next to Joffrey but had convinced someone to switch with her so that she could be next to you.

“Joffrey is a…spirited boy, he has many…passions.” You say carefully, running your finger along the rim of your glass.

Your father suspects Robert will wish to wed Sansa and Joffrey. It’s a strategic match, but your cousin is a horrible bully, you have marks hidden beneath your sleeves to prove your words, and you do not wish to see innocent Sansa suffer in such a way. True, you have not spent much time with her, but she has been warm and welcoming, her innocence shining through like the sun on a spring day.

“Does he enjoy tourneys? I have heard the King was quite the warrior, he and father fought together.” Sansa continues, resting her chin in her hand.

You smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in your skirts. “Joffrey has not competed in any tourneys quite yet, Lady Sansa, he is too young.”

“He is three and ten, is he not? Most squire by one and ten, why has he not been sent to one of your bannermen like his uncle?” Robb says, taking a long drink from his glass.

“My mother does not wish for him to get injured; he is heir to the throne, after all.” Myrcella chimes in, saving you from coming up with another excuse for why Joffrey has not been allowed to leave King’s Landing.

Sansa nods and gazes longingly at Joffrey once more. “That seems most wise, what a dutiful mother Queen Cersei is.”

“Where is your mother, Lady y/n? I did not see anyone else arrive.” Bran, one of the younger Starks asks, his round innocent face not dulling the sting of his words at all.

Myrcella takes your hand under the tables and squeezes it. She has been privy to the nights of crying, of mourning the mother you would never know.

“Bran, that is not polite.” Sansa hisses.

You shake your head, a soft smile on your face. “My mother died giving birth to me, but I am told she held me in her arms before the Stranger came for her, that she named me and spoke of how dearly she loved me.”

Bran makes a soft noise of apology, and the conversation lulls, until finally you have finished your meal and are free to retire to your chambers.

You wave off any offer to escort you, telling them all you wish to admire the architecture of Winterfell in solitude.

It’s not wholly a lie, though you cannot say you ever wish to be alone , you enjoy the company of others, are invigorated by it, but tonight feels different. Perhaps it is the mention of your mother, or the false face Joffrey is putting on for the Starks and their bannermen, the sound of his laughter ringing about the hall. You wander the halls of Winterfell with a faint knowledge of where the guest chambers lie, when you find yourself approaching the training yard. The night is quiet, snow falling gently, the brisk air seizes your lungs, purifying them with an icy chill.

You are not alone, the thud of blunt metal upon wood, the sounds of exertion, the turn of boots in snow covered dirt. You slowly move towards the sound, knowing your father will scold you later for such carelessness. There are countless people here, and you cannot be assured they all wish you well.

Jon Snow, the ever so distracting bastard, stands in the middle of the yard, training alone, the moonlight shining down on him, making his pale skin glisten. You rest your hand on the stone archway, one foot on the dirt, the other still firmly planted on the stone. You should leave him alone, you know it, but you’re mesmerized by the sight, the tension in his muscles, the expanse of his back, the strength in his arms. He is a little older than you, six and ten to your five and ten, both old enough to be married, yet both remaining unbetrothed.

There had been offers for your hand, even though you were the imp’s child, and many wondered if you would sire broken children, if you would pass on your father’s curse. But for the gold that backed your name many were willing to risk it. You didn’t like your suitors, they were too brash, too lewd, too old, or simply just not right.

Jon stops and lifts his tunic to wipe the sweat from his brow. His stomach is toned, his skin mostly smooth, though there are some faded scars.

Yes, they were simply not right, they did not look like that.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you avert your eyes. What were you, a child? A lovesick maid? You have spent no more than mere minutes in his presence, and already you are lusting after him like some silk street whore? It must be the chill that is muddling your mind, yes, the chill. Not the kindness that you saw within him as he played with Arya and Bran in the courtyard earlier in the day. Or the way he stood stiff lipped while Joffrey threw barbed insults at him as he passed him in the hall, or the stack of novels you had overheard the maester say were to be set aside for him. Merely the chill. The chill and the flights of fancy all young girls are prone to.

With that in mind, you wait until he has returned his tunic to its rightful place and step fully into the snow.

He turns on his heel, weapon at the ready. He is perceptive, you note, good reflexes, excellent hearing, fine form, carved from marble, glowing like a god in the moonlight.

Gods y/n, pull yourself together.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You say, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. It is thin, far too thin to wear in the chill of night.

Jon lowers his sword. “Lady Lannister, why are you not inside at the feast? Are you lost?”

“Yes.” You lie, batting your eyelashes at him, crafting your expression into one of helplessness. “I wished to return to my chamber, but I lost my way.”

Jon stows his sword and retrieves his cloak from a nearby rack. “I will escort you, if you do not take offense?”

You tilt your head in faux confusion. “Why would I take offense?”

He shuffles his feet and busies himself with his cloak. “You are a lady of a great house, and I am…” He lets the unspoken words hang in the air, and you have the grace to act surprised.

“Oh, yes, right, you are a Snow.” You say, taking a step towards him and extending your hand, waiting to set it on his arm. “Well, I care not if you are a Stark or a Snow, I am sure you are more than capable of escorting me to the guest chambers of your home.”

He ducks his head, that delightful blush returning to his cheeks, and he holds out his arm for you.

You take it gratefully, allowing him to guide you back towards the way you came. The wind blows through the yard as you walk and cuts straight through your thin cloak, a shiver shooting down your spine.

Before you can blink, Jon has draped his cloak over you, clasping it shut with a surprising boldness. “It is far too cold for such a thin cloak; you must remember to wear your furs if you find yourself wandering out here once more.”

You look up at him through your lashes, your heart skipping a beat at the proximity between you and him, the depth of his dark eyes. “And if I were to wander out here again…might I be able to count on you to escort me? I must confess I find the halls of Winterfell quite confusing.”

He lingers for a moment, drinking you in, his head nodding almost imperceptibly, then he wrenches himself away, his gaze set forward. “Anyone in Winterfell would be more than able to escort you, My Lady.”

You nod, feeling the sting of rejection. It’s no matter, this is only the first night, there’s still plenty of time.

Yes I used a Hozier line bc it's perfect for the vibe of this fic

#meg's writing #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon snow x oc #jon snow imagine #jon snow #tyrion lannister #lannister!reader #new series alert!#I know y'all don't want this but I wanted to make the title thing so bad #tyrion's daughter #theon greyjoy x sansa stark #theon greyjoy #sansa stark #got fanfiction #robb stark

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heavyhitterheaux · 6 months ago

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One Way Street (NSFW)

AN: Go watch The Instigators!!

Synopsis: Meeting Scalvo has put you head over heels when you move back to Boston after graduating. Little did you know, the person that you fell for isn't exactly who you thought he was and that the relationship between the two of you would never be the same again

Pairing: Scalvo x Reader (The Instigators)

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Walking along the Boston streets, you were taking in the fresh air on a beautiful autumn day when a bakery came into your view and you couldn’t help but to smile. However, it wasn’t just any bakery, you had come here plenty of times growing up and now that you had finally graduated college and moved back to spend some time with your parents, you had to make this be your first stop after your plane had landed last night.

Walking in, the smell of fresh donuts hit your nose as you looked at the rows of display cases trying to decide what you wanted to get to take home for yourself as well as your parents. Mr. Besegai owned this bakery for as long as you could remember and when you looked up from the display case, you saw him coming out of the storage room with someone hot on his trail. He was tall, had curly hair, and for some reason his hair seemed to be damp, almost if he had just taken a shower which had you slightly confused. He looked to be in some type of rush and bumped into you as he had taken out his phone to glance at it as he was trying to get to the exit.

“Oh, sorry about that.” He simply said while not bothering to look at you. But once he finally made eye contact with you he held your gaze for a second before you snapped out of it and finally responded back to him.

“It’s okay, no worries.”

“Never seen you around here before, you just moved here?” The curly haired man asked you and quickly shaking your head you told him no. Nobody ever intrigued Scalvo, but now that he had set his eyes on you, he was curious about the brown skin girl with the dyed auburn curly hair.

“No, I just moved back. I just graduated from University of Maryland. I grew up here.”

Mr. Besegai was watching the exchange between the two of you as the wheels in his head started turning on how he could get his plan to work as he pretended that he was simply wiping down the counters. What you didn’t know was that because of your father being a big time lawyer, he had spent the last four years in jail and had recently gotten out due to having good behavior because in actuality, he had gotten fifteen. It was all due to a misunderstanding, but your father wasn’t trying to hear it. Your father and him would do business all the time and would constantly be meeting at his bakery. When your father had to bring you along, Mr. Besegai always made a point to give you a free donut. It changed every time since you didn't quite have a favorite flavor.

He wanted to get back at him for what he had done and knew that using Scalvo to get to you was going to be his best bet. If he could get you to trust him, that would make this job ten times easier.

As far as he knew, Scalvo didn’t know who you were and he was going to do his best to keep it that way so that his plan would be able to work. He had found Scalvo wandering the streets of Boston when he was eleven and took him in after his grandmother had passed. As soon as he was old enough, he introduced him to his world of how he was able to make so much money and from that point on it was history. The two of you had never crossed paths before since you would be in boarding school the majority of the time.

Just last week, he had approached Scalvo and told him about his newest plan in order to rob the big time prosecutor for what he had done to him and then Scalvo had told him what he had done to his father which he had never mentioned. Your father apparently had convicted him of a crime that he didn’t commit and was sent to prison to serve out his time. While he was there, he had another run in with another inmate and ended up losing his life. From that point, Scalvo began running away from home with his grandmother and felt that nothing made sense in the world anymore. That’s why he was the way he was now. It was all simply business with him. He didn’t show emotion, let people in, and simply kept everyone at a distance. The only thing on his mind was making money and getting back at Mr. Lawson who stole his father away from him.

They simply had to wait until a big event happened in the city for the plan to be executed. Mr. Besegai had zoned out for a minute, but as he tuned back in to pay attention, he actually saw Scalvo smile which had never been a thing before.

Yeah, this would be the perfect thing to add to the plan.

“I guess I'll be seeing you around then.” Scalvo told you and you couldn't help but smile.

“I guess you will.” You simply answered, but was quickly interrupted by Mr. Besegai.

“Y/N, what donut do you want today for old times sake?”

“Oh, I can…”

“Nonsense. Pick out a donut and a cake to take home. Always good to see your face around. Maybe you can be a good influence on Scalvo here. He needs friends.”

Scalvo’s eyes went wide as he looked at him annoyed while you were focusing on the display of treats in front of you.

“Hmm, I could always use another friend and I'm feeling the maple bacon donut and red velvet cake.”

“Coming right up.”

After he boxed up your cake along with your donut, you were on your way and you made it a necessary task to say goodbye to Scalvo who once again smiled at you. Once you were gone, he quickly interrogated Mr. Besegai.

“Who is she?”

“Oh, Y/N? Beautiful girl who comes from a beautiful family. Known her since she was born practically. She would be a good influence on you because God knows you need it.”

From that first meeting, Scalvo didn’t quite know what it was, but you intrigued him. He felt a weird sensation in his stomach. Were those the butterflies that people always talk about? After getting your number, the two of you had gone on several dates to which Scalvo’s surprise he actually enjoyed so there was no doubt in his mind to ask you to be in a relationship with him. He was actually surprised that you said yes. He would simply be going over the plan to get back at Mr. Lawson during the day and spend time with you at night. It had been about four months since he and Mr. Besegai had been planning and knew that it was only a matter of time now, but the biggest thing he had to do was have patience.

So, they both had to make sure that they did it at the right time in the hopes that nothing would go wrong. Scalvo felt that he had waited long enough and it was finally time to get him back for what he did because at this point, the only thing that he did for Scalvo was ruin his life.

The two of you were currently taking a walk after you had had dinner at a restaurant that you had chosen in the city, and was simply taking in the fresh air before Scalvo dropped you back off at your apartment although it was a little cold outside. Scalvo had laughed when he saw you come outside from your apartment, but as soon as you said that you were still cold, he took his scarf to wrap it around you.

You had noticed that he had been extra quiet over the past few days and made a point to ask him about it. As you two were walking, you simply nudged him with your elbow. Breaking him out of his trance, he turned to look at you.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you so quiet? Is something on your mind? You’ve been really quiet since dinner, well actually these last few days. You know that you can tell me anything.” You asked him as you stopped walking and he quickly followed suit.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little self about.” He told you as he lightly grabbed your hand and put it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“Are you sure? You know that you can always talk to me. I’m a good listener.”

“I know you are, but it’s just not something that I want to focus on right now. I’m here with you enjoying your company and that’s what my focus should be. I’m sorry that I got so distracted.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He was far from it, but if he pulled this off it might make it a little better.

What Mr. Besegai didn’t know about the plan was that he did plan on robbing him, but he also wanted to end his life.

An eye for an eye.

He wasn’t about to tell him that and simply kept it to himself. His biggest thing was to not get caught because he knew if he did that he would serve serious time and more than likely would never get out.

Killing a big time lawyer? He would never hear the end of it.

And you would probably want nothing to do with him after that.

Only two things kept him going at this point, getting money and you.

He couldn't lose you, not now.

After he pulled this off, he wanted to be done with this life but didn't know how that would go when he told Mr. Besegai.

He would probably try to kill him because of how much he knew, but he needed to try.

He needed to try for you.

He wanted to be better for you.

He wanted you in his life for the long haul even though he imagined that it probably wouldn’t be very long.

“I’m okay, promise.”

“Then are you actually going to tell me what you do for a living? You take me on these lavish dates, but have yet to tell me.”

Scalvo laughed to himself before he answered your question.

“I make investments in companies and when they take off, I get to see the money that comes from it. I just don't like talking about work when I'm with you. You're my peace from all of that.”

“You must be pretty good at it then.” You told him as you two sat down on a bench in a park that you two had come across on your walk.

The only thing he thought was that he was simply good at it enough so that he didn't get caught.

“I guess I’m alright.” He replied as he shrugged, but you simply smiled at him until he asked you what was up.

“What?”

“You are too modest and never give yourself enough credit. But what are you doing this weekend?” You asked as an idea popped into your head.

“Nothing important. But if it has to do with you, I just might make an exception.” He told you as he pinched your cheek making you laugh.

“My parents have a cabin in Montreal and since I'm not doing anything either, maybe we could go.”

Scalvo smiled at the thought of you wanting to spend the weekend with him but there was a problem. Montreal was in Canada and he needed to get across the border.

With a passport.

Something that he didn't have.

Well he had a few days and could probably come up with an idea to make it happen. Maybe Mr. Besegai knew a guy because he literally always did.

“Okay and after this, I'm planning our next date since you planned the last two.”

“There's a jacuzzi too just so you know.” You said as you smirked.

“We're definitely going to be putting that to good use.”

–

The relaxing weekend was coming to an end as you two decided to go in the jacuzzi one last time before driving back down to Boston. The two of you had planned to leave in a few hours hoping to get back in the early hours of the afternoon. You were currently sitting on his lap while he had his arms around you.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.” He whispered in your ear as a small smile graced your face.

“I could tell. You had been so distracted so my idea was to get you away for a little while. Besides, your focus wasn't on me and I didn't like that very much.” You told him as you turned to look at him.

“Hmm. Well I promise to not let it happen again.” He told you as he leaned down to kiss you and you kissed him back with a sense of urgency and desperation.

Turning around to straddle him, your arms went around his neck as you felt him untie the top of your bathing suit letting it fall to the side and it was quickly forgotten. His hands traveled lower to rest on your hips before one of his hands started to run across your folds through the thin material that happened to be the only thing left covering your body.

Kisses were placed in a trail starting from your neck and kept going as he lifted you a bit higher to place kisses along your breasts before placing one of them in his mouth and sucking lightly leading a moan to escape from your mouth.

“Mmm.” Was all that came out of your mouth as you threw your head back and you soon felt the other half of your bikini fall away from your body as he untied it.

Scalvo simply stood up as he held onto you and stepped out of the jacuzzi and made his way back inside the house to the master bedroom. He gently laid you down and he hovered over top of you as your arms went back around his neck and guided him closer to you so that he could meet his lips with yours.

“I need to hear you say what you want me to do to you.” He whispered against your lips and before you could answer, he lifted two of his fingers to your mouth and you immediately opened it to suck on them. Once he was satisfied with how wet they were, he slowly inserted them into you, making you gasp.

“Baby, you need to use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel every inch of you.” You breathed out and you could see that cocky smirk that you loved so much spread across his face.

“We'll get to that, but I need to taste you first. Is my pretty girl okay with that?”

You nodded your head as he moved down on the bed and took a hold on your hips before tightening it so that you wouldn't be able to move. The bruises that would be seen tomorrow would be worth it.

As he came face to face with your core when he got himself comfortable, he kissed up and down both of your inner thighs before you felt his tongue where you wanted him the most.

“Babe…” You breathed out as he continued to pleasure you.

“You like that? You like when I put my tongue in your pussy?”

“Yes, oh fuck. Don't stop.” You told him as you grabbed your nipples in order to play with them and roll them between your fingers. You placed two fingers in your mouth and got them wet enough to rub it across both of them.

Luckily you two were in the mountains with no nearby neighbors and you could yell as loud as you wanted.

Your hands then quickly found their way to his hair that you loved to play in so much as he began to fuck you with his tongue faster.

“Shit, stay right there, stay right there.” You told him with desperation in your voice. But he had a better idea. His fingers had replaced his tongue and his mouth then moved to suck on your swollen clit and you knew it was only a matter of time before you lost it.

And your original thought was right as you squirted back to back all over his face, but he still wasn't letting up as he continued to suck on your clit.

When he finally released his hold on you, you sat up and quickly kissed him and felt him slip his tongue in your mouth so that you could taste yourself which he quickly made a point to comment on.

“You see how good you taste? I want more, but we can save that for later since I do remember you telling me that you wanted to feel every inch of me, correct?”

All you did was nod as you peered down to see him bricked up but he still had his swim trunks on. He followed your gaze and quickly kissed you once more.

“Take it out then.”

Doing what he asked, you slid them down and his dick sprung to life. You quickly spit in your hand before you began to palm him and jerk him off.

“How do you want me, baby?” You asked in a whisper against his lips and he placed his hands around your neck as you continued to jerk him off.

“Why are you asking me silly questions? You know how I want you. So get there.”

Smirking, you leaned forward to kiss him before turning around and positioning yourself on your knees and arching your back with your ass on display for him.

You felt his dick moving up and down the length of your folds before finally sliding in earning moans from the both of you.

Scalvo started out at a slow even pace to make sure you were comfortable before all that could be heard in the room was skin slapping against skin.

“Good girl, you're being such a good girl for me baby. You like when I fuck you like this?” He asked you, but the only thing that could be heard were your moans and whimpers from beneath him.

When you didn't answer him, you felt a soft smack to your ass, making him repeat his question.

“Baby, I asked you if you like when I fuck you like this? Answer me like the good girl I know you are. Otherwise I'm going to stop.”

“Yes!” You were finally able to breathe out and without warning, Scalvo slid out of you and flipped you over before sliding back into you.

Now that the two of you were face to face, your foreheads were touching as he placed your legs on his shoulders. He captured you in a kiss as he continued to pound into you and you could feel the familiar feeling in your stomach building. Obviously Scalvo could tell by the look on your face.

“I'm…” You started to say, but he immediately cut you off.

“I know, baby. Me too.”

Moments later both of you hit your peak at the same time and Scalvo slid out of you and you quickly sat up and took him in your mouth as you felt the sticky liquid hit the back of your throat.

As you milked him dry, he moved his hand down to slowly rub small circles along your clit before removing his hand and licking his fingers.

“Mmm, my baby tastes so fucking good.” He told you before he lifted your face towards him so that he could kiss you.

“I need you to lay down for me.” You told him and he gave you another kiss before he did as he was told.

You simply straddled him as you faced away from him and he immediately knew what it was.

“Wouldn't be right if I didn't reverse cowgirl on you.”

“Get to it, then.”

Both of you went for two more rounds until finally taking showers, changing the sheets and getting comfortable in bed. The two of you were simply talking as your head rested on his chest and he came to a realization.

“You are so easy to talk to. I don't think I've ever told someone this much about myself.” He confessed and you turned to look up at him.

“But one thing you've never talked about is your family.”

“There's nothing to tell.” He told you and you could feel him tense up.

“Baby, you should know by now that you can trust me. Obviously it bothers you, but if you don't want to talk to me about it, maybe a therapist might help? I can tell it's a sensitive topic for you and you’re hurting.” As soon as the words left your mouth, he immediately turned up his nose.

“I don't need a therapist. My mom left when I was two and my father was killed. That's it and that's all.”

“I just want to help.” You told him as you grabbed his hand, but he moved it away from you.

“Y/N, I get it. But I'm done talking about this.”

“But baby…”

“I said I was done.” He told you and the tone of his voice somewhat scared you, making you jump as you sat up to look at him.

He immediately had a guilty look on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. You don't deserve that.” He said as he moved a curl out of your face.

“I just want for you to be okay. You're always so distracted now. I’m just worried.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” He told you as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. At that point he was just happy that you didn't move away from him.

It was quiet for a minute before either of you spoke again.

“I want you to have dinner with my parents next week on Friday. They went on a short trip and they’ll be getting back on Thursday night. I want you to meet them.”

Scalvo’s eyes suddenly went wide and he wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. This was a situation that he had never been in before.

“I… you want me to meet them?” He asked for clarification and you simply nodded.

“I’ve been spending a lot of time with you and you’re important to me and one of my favorite people to be around. I think that’s worth sharing with other people.”

“If it’ll make you happy, then I’ll do it.” He told you as he smiled at you and you leaned up to kiss him, he eagerly kissed you back and when the two of you broke apart, you were sitting in a comfortable silence as you laid your head back down on his chest.

Scalvo’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he sat there and thought about the situation that he was currently in.

You were too good for him and way out of his league and he knew it.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stay away from you seeing as it was getting harder and harder by the day.

–

It was the day before Scalvo was due to have dinner with you and your parents and he was on edge and very annoyed.

He was currently with Mr. Besegai and Cobby going over the plans that would take place two days from now on that Saturday night. He thought at first that he was going to do this job by himself seeing as he’s done many by himself before, but to his surprise, Cobby was brought on at the last minute. He was a drunk who talked too much and he was the last person that he wanted to be around. After arguing with Mr. Besegai about his decision for ten minutes, he had finally given up.

His thoughts quickly went to you and he wondered if you were having a good day seeing as he hadn’t really had any time to call and check up on you. Not that you would mind though since you had it in your mind that he was this big time investor that was busy a lot of the time. He knew that you wouldn’t question if he had been M.I.A. for the majority of the day. As he thought of you, his phone quickly vibrated and he looked down to see a text message from you and he instantly got a smile on his face.

You- Hi, handsome! Just checking on you. I hope you’re having a good day. Call me when you can.

Cobby noticed Scalvo smiling at his phone and raised an eyebrow before addressing it.

“Scalvo! Pay attention! What the fuck has you smiling at your phone like that?”

“Your mom’s nudes, now mind your own fucking business and leave me the hell alone.”

“Outta pocket and unnecessary.”

“You being here is unnecessary because I don’t fucking need you in order to pull this off.”

“Will you two knock it off for Christ’s sake?! Scalvo, Cobby is here because he offered to help and quite frankly, you could probably use it in this situation.” Mr. Besegai said and Scalvo immediately rolled his eyes.

“Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“Don’t start with me. Now we need to go over this one more time to make sure we have it right.”

The entire reason that he decided to bring Cobby on was not because he didn’t have any confidence in Scalvo being able to pull it off, it was because when Scalvo found out the connection between you and Mr. Lawson there was a possibility that he could be hesitant going through with the plan entirely and he couldn’t risk that. He knew that the two of you had grown close seeing as you spent a few days out of the week with each other. He figured that he should probably tell him about the connection, but the last thing he wanted to do was cloud his judgment. He needed him to be focused in order to be able to pull this off.

He knew for a fact that Scalvo would never do anything to hurt you or put you in harm’s way.

As they were going over the plan once more, Scalvo was only half listening since he had this damn plan memorized since day one and simply sent you a text back.

Scalvo- Been busy all day and definitely missing you. Can’t wait for dinner tomorrow night and I’ll call you once I’m finished.

“All I know is Scalvo better not fuck this up since he’s over there not listening.” Cobby said and all Scalvo did was look in his direction before responding.

“You have one more motherfucking time to say some shit to me before I put a bullet in your head.” He told him as he pulled out his gun and aimed it at him.

“Let’s fucking go, then!”

“HEY! NO! NONE OF THAT! Not before this job is done then I could care less what the two of you do. I can’t believe at one point in time you two used to be friends.”

“Yeah me either. His ass needs a fucking therapist.” Cobby said and Scalvo had just put his gun back, but still had his hand on it.

“Are we done here? I got shit to do. And for your information I have a therapist because my girlfriend made me get one. Not that it's any of your business, asshole.”

When the two of you had finally gotten back to Boston, Scalvo actually looked into getting a therapist and found one that he actually liked. You were so excited when he told you about it.

“Well it's obviously not working. And since when do you have a girlfriend?!”

“It’s only my first week, so I’ll still bust a cap in your drunk ass. And once again, my business and not yours.”

Mr. Besegai simply waved Scalvo off and he made his way to the door to go down the steps before turning back to Cobby.

“I brought you on not because I didn’t think that he could do it, but because his judgment is going to be clouded once he figures everything out and we can’t have that.”

“How so?”

“The man we’re about to rob? Scalvo’s dating his daughter and he has no idea. Once he finds out he might not go through with it. If that happens, I need you to be able to finish the job for me.”

“Fuck and I’m not supposed to tell him anything?! This could turn into a fucking disaster.”

“He’ll find out soon enough. Until then, just let him be. This is just as Important to him as it is to me.”

As promised, as soon as Scalvo made his way to his car he called you and you picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“My princess hasn't heard from me all day and I missed her.” He confessed as he weaved through Boston traffic.

“She misses you two and also wants you to do something for her.”

“Name it and it'll be done.”

“Pick me up from work since my car was acting stupid earlier? My dad sent a tow truck over and he offered me a ride, but I said I would wait for my handsome boyfriend to come and get me.”

“Say less. I'll be right there.”

Scalvo quickly made an illegal u-turn as he started heading in the direction towards your job. Once he pulled up and saw you, he was all smiles and opened the door for you to get in.

First thing he did as you got into the car was kiss you and you made sure that you gave him several kisses back.

“Mm, I missed tasting those lips so much.” He told you and all you did was laugh.

“Surprised that you didn't say that you missed my other pair of lips.”

“Oh, I missed those too and I can't wait for us to be able to catch up later.”

As both of you moved through rush hour traffic, you told Scalvo that you were hungry and he mentioned that he had stuffed a menu from a new place that had just opened up in the glove compartment that had good reviews. Once you opened it, you were surprised to see a 9mm handgun staring back at you and gulped.

“Scalvo…”

“What's wrong, babe?”

You never called him Scalvo unless you were being serious, so he knew that something was probably wrong.

“Why do you have a gun in your glove compartment?” You asked and his eyes went wide as he looked over and saw it. He simply grabbed the menu for you and hastily shut It.

Fuck, he forgot he put it in there. The last thing he wanted to happen was you seeing it.

“You closing it so that I can't see it is not making it go away. Why do you have that?” You asked and he refused to make eye contact with you.

“For protection.”

“Not a good enough answer.”

“Well it's the truth.”

“Protection from who?”

“Baby, don't worry about it. Just look at the menu and tell me what you want to eat.”

“Not until I get an explanation.”

“Being a person who does the job that I do can lead to having a lot of enemies. I need to protect myself at all times.”

“But…. you told me that you invest in small businesses.”

“I do and I dress like this to not draw any attention to myself. If I don't look the part, people might leave me alone. But you can never be too sure.”

“Well I don't like it.”

“Y/N, it doesn't matter if you don't like it. I'm not getting rid of it. I need to be able to protect myself and you if it comes down to it.”

“But why? Why would that even happen?”

“Nothing wrong with being prepared. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you that I could have prevented.”

There was something that he wasn't being honest about and you could tell. Despite him telling you that you were an easy person to talk to, you felt that he still held onto a lot of secrets.

“You know what you want to eat yet?”

“Drop me off at home until you’re ready to be honest with me.” You told him as the forgotten menu was held in your hand, but you weren't looking at it.

“Baby, come on. I want to spend time with you and I told you why I have it. Last thing I want to do is fight with you.”

“If someone was after you, you would tell me, correct? So I could help you?”

“Princess…”

“Answer my question.”

“Yes, now can we move on?”

“For now, but I still don't like it.”

“You'll forget all about it once I eat you out later at your apartment.”

–

There was literally only one day to go until Scalvo and Cobby would be breaking into James Lawson's house and robbing him of everything that he was worth and Scalvo was hoping that it would end with him being able to put him six feet under.

They had done a dry run earlier in the day, even though the ride mostly consisted of them arguing and Scalvo actually leaving Cobby and making him run behind the car for shits and giggles before he eventually stopped to let him back in.

Now he was on his way to dinner with your parents. After telling Scalvo to pick up some dessert from the bakery for dinner, he picked you up from your apartment and then the two of you were on your way to your parents house. As he turned on the street, you pointed at which house it was and he instantly got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

No, this couldn’t be right.

This was the lawyer’s house, James Lawson where he lives with his wife and two dogs

The house he planned on robbing tomorrow night with Cobby.

Since when did he have a daughter? Or any kids for that matter? He didn’t remember reading that anywhere and he always did his research before a job.

“Wait, this one?” He asked once more as he pointed at it before turning to pull into the long driveway.

“Yes, this is it. My dad is a lawyer. You might have heard of him, James Lawson? Apparently he's a really big deal in Boston.” You said while laughing. Everyone knew your dad and it wasn't always for the best reasons.

Scalvo gulped as he nodded his head and began to park next to who he assumed was your father’s range rover.

Fuck, this can’t be happening, this CANNOT be happening

“Oh, I didn’t know that he was your dad.”

“Yeah, but to keep me protected he didn’t really talk about me and my mom very much so not a lot of people know. I even use my mom’s last name in order to not draw any attention to myself. A lot of people don't like my dad.”

As you undid your seatbelt, you looked over to see him looking nervous.

“Babe? Everything okay? You look pale. Well, more pale than usual. You feel alright?” You asked him as you felt his forehead.

“Um, I’m fine.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous. They’re going to love you. I already told them so much about you.” You told him as you grabbed a hold of his face and turned it towards you.

Oh shit

“I just… I’ve never done this before with anyone. You’re the first girl that I’ve ever taken this much interest in and I just want to do this right.” He told you being completely honest.

“You’re freaking yourself out over nothing, I promise it’ll be fine.” You told him as you leaned in to kiss him.

“Then later it’ll be just us once we go back to my apartment. But maybe I can give you a preview once we leave here.” Whispering in his ear and giving his bicep a small squeeze, you smiled at him and he returned it, but you could tell that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

After you had gotten out of the car, Scalvo quickly followed you while grabbing the cake from the backseat and walked side by side as you both made your way to the front door. You simply put your key into the door and unlocked it.

As the two of you stepped inside, you called out to see where your parents were as you led him into the kitchen in order to put the cake on the table.

“In here!” You heard your mom say from the living room and you grabbed Scalvo's hand that had gotten noticeably sweatier in the last three minutes.

When your parents came into view, you immediately hugged them before stepping back to introduce them to Scalvo and you could tell that they were intrigued by him.

This was the first person you had bought home since your prom date so you knew that they were probably excited.

“Mom, dad. This is my boyfriend Scalvo who I can't stop talking about.” You told them and felt him in some way relax as he was holding your hand.

“It's nice to meet you Mr. And Mrs. Lawson.” He told them and they smiled at him and quickly embraced him.

“It's so good to finally meet you!” Your mom told him, but your dad was looking at him curiously.

“Hmm, are you sure that we haven't met before?” He asked Scalvo who immediately shook his head no even though that was a lie.

They had met plenty of times and the first one was at his dad's trial believe it or not.

“You just look so familiar, but anyway I'm happy to meet you. All she does is talk about you.”

“Okay! Enough of throwing me under the bus!” You exclaimed, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.

“Hey, you started it.” Your dad said as he held up his arms in defense.

“Come on, dinner should be ready. We can go sit in the dining room.” Your mom announced and that was when Scalvo mentioned the cake.

“Oh, and I brought a cake for dessert.”

“Perfect! We didn't have time to make one so that worked out.”

Once all of you got settled around the dining room table, plates were piled high with food and conversation between Scalvo and your parents came easy. You could tell that he had finally relaxed or he was putting on a really good front at the moment. Your thoughts were then interrupted by your dad asking him what he did for a living.

“Oh, I’m a businessman you could say. I invest in small business and then I make a profit from it.”

“Really? What company is your latest investment in?”

“Mr. Besegai’s bakery not too far from here.”

Well that wasn’t entirely a lie.

“Ah, Mr. Besegai, great man. Known him for a long time. Used to always go to his bakery every weekend that Y/N was home from boarding school to get treats.”

So, that’s why Scalvo had never seen you before.

“Yeah, he is.”

“I hear that’s where the two of you met.” Your mom added and both of you smiled at each other.

“He almost knocked me over, but yes.” You had told your mother as you sipped on your wine.

“I was looking down and didn’t notice you! You aren’t exactly tall.”

“HEY!”

Scalvo held his hands up in defense as you gave him the evil eye, but that eventually went away as you began laughing.

Before the cake was cut for dessert, Scalvo excused himself to the bathroom in order to text Mr. Besegai.

Scalvo- Are you FUCKING serious?

Old man who gets on my nerves- What now?

Scalvo- Why didn’t you tell me who her parents were? You knew. You fucking knew this entire time.

Old man who gets on my nerves- I planned it perfectly. I wanted you to get closer to her to make our job easier.

Scalvo- How do you expect me to still be able to do it!?

Old man who gets on my nerves- I don’t care how it gets done, but you better fucking do it. Otherwise I will have your head on a silver platter and you know I’m good for my word. Get it done so I don’t have to hurt you or your little girlfriend.

Scalvo- If you touch one hair on her head, I will empty my clip into your fucking chest

Old man who gets on my nerves- Don’t fucking forget who saved you from being homeless on the street. I took you in when I could have let you starve. Do as you're told and she doesn’t get hurt.

The next day, Scalvo had told you that he would more than likely be busy and to keep you distracted from what would be going down at your parents house later, he sent you to an expensive spa for the weekend and would pick you up on Monday morning. He was currently in his car with Cobby sitting outside of your parents house, except they were down the street so that they wouldn’t be seen.

Cobby felt like he was distracted and didn’t want to say anything about it, however he needed for him to focus so that the two of them would be able to pull this off.

“Uh, you alright over there?” He asked him and Scalvo turned to him and rolled his eyes.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“That we’re robbing my girlfriend’s parents.”

“I.. uh.. Look, he told me not to tell you because he didn’t want your judgment to be clouded.”

“Well now what the fuck am I supposed to do? He threatened to hurt her, but me doing this is probably going to hurt her more.”

“Hmm, I see therapy is really working. You’re really opening up to me.”

“Cobby, I will still kill you, let's get that straight. You still don’t know what to say out of your fucking mouth after all these years.”

“Tell me who your therapist is, I need to go and see them.”

“COBBY WILL YOU FUCKING FOCUS?”

“Okay, fine, fine. Let’s just get this done, because if you don’t go through with this, he’ll either kill you or kill her.”

“I added on another part of the plan that I didn’t tell you about.”

“Are you going to share with the class?” He asked after Scalvo was quiet for a few minutes.

“I was going to kill him for what he did to my father, but now I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Not Scalvo having feelings.”

“I will… look, I think they’re finally sleeping so let’s go over the plan one more time and then it’s go time.”

“Okay, lover boy, let's do this.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The plan was to break into his office and get into his safe while Cobby despite how fucking stupid Scalvo thought he was figured out a way to empty his bank accounts. He still didn’t understand how he figured it out, but he wasn’t asking questions. He just wanted for this to be over with. After the two of you had eaten dessert the day before, Scalvo asked for a tour of the house and he knew that he could use this to his advantage. Even though he had the blueprints and floor plans of the house, seeing it in real time in front of him was a different story.

Your parents knew what he looked like so wearing a mask was a must. He reached for his gun and got it out of the glove compartment, just in case.

Just in case.

After cutting off the electricity to the house and disarming it, Scalvo and Cobby slipped their way inside and moved to the bottom floor where his office was.

Cobby got out tools in order to open the safe as Scalvo stood there ready to load the money into it when he suddenly heard footsteps behind them. They looked at each other in a panic before the office door swung open and they were now face to face with your father who was holding a gun in his hand.

“If the two of you leave quietly, we can forget that this ever happened.”

“Ehh, no can do sir. Our orders come from higher up, so we’ll just take this money and be on our way.” Cobby said and it was as if Scalvo was too out of it to speak.

“I’ll give you one more chance, next time I’m shooting.”

Scalvo didn’t say anything, but instead knocked your father’s gun out of his hand kicking it away from him and held his gun up to his temple as Cobby looked on with wide eyes. Scalvo nodded towards Cobby to finish what he was doing before they were interrupted, but he still stayed quiet. Your parents knew what his voice sounded like and if he opened his mouth that would be the end of it.

Your dad held up his hands in defense as Cobby began stuffing the duffle bag.

“I’m done, let’s go.” He told Scalvo who was still holding the gun up to your father’s head and he didn’t move.

“It’s not worth it, let’s go. We have bigger things to think about.” He said as he tugged on his arm.

Scalvo finally lowered the gun as he sighed, but only told Cobby one word.

“Rope.”

The two of them left your father sitting in the dark tied to his office chair with duct tape on his mouth, but at least he was alive.

The ride back to downtown Boston was silent as Cobby was working on his laptop emptying his bank account.

“If she finds out, she’s never going to forgive me.”

“Ehh, she might. At least you left him alive. That has to count for something, right?”

—

The next few days were a blur after you had called Scalvo frantic and told him about what had happened to your parents. You told him that you were going to stay with them for a few days since your mother was still pretty shaken up about the entire thing. You also couldn’t put your finger on it, but Scalvo was acting weird. You could tell that he was once again hiding something from you and the plan was to get it out of him one way or another.

It was Friday and your lunch break when you decided to go to the sandwich shop that was next to the bakery before heading back to work when you spotted Scalvo talking to someone outside of it when you pulled up in your car. You smiled to yourself before getting out of the car and greeting him.

“Hi babe!” You said as you came up beside him and it was clear that you startled him.

“Oh hey. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” He asked as he hugged you and kissed the top of your head.

“Lunch break, but I’ll be heading back soon. Who’s your friend?” You asked as you turned to Cobby.

“Cobby, Scalvo’s best friend. Nice to meet you. He doesn’t shut up about you.”

“He uses that term too loosely.” Scalvo muttered and you laughed.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Scalvo needs to get out more, but he doesn’t think so. But maybe you could help with that.” You answered when Cobby’s wrist caught your eye. It was a gold bracelet and it looked very familiar.

Too familiar.

As in it was your father’s bracelet that he kept in his safe.

The safe that was broken into last week and they still had no leads.

Now it was adding up.

Expensive cars.

Expensive trips.

Expensive jewelry.

He got you anything you wanted without giving it a second thought.

But, him having the gun and always being secretive was everything that you needed to know.

Scalvo wasn’t a businessman at all.

He was a fucking criminal.

Your boyfriend was a criminal and he had just stolen from your parents.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He told you as he smiled. You smiled back before turning to Scalvo.

“Meet me at my apartment later?”

“I’ll be there.”

It was around nine at night when Scalvo finally knocked on your apartment door. You let him in and simply went to pour yourself a glass of wine. You poured him one too and slid it in front of him, but you were still quiet.

“Baby?”

“I’m going to ask you this and please do not lie to me.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“Why was your friend Cobby wearing my father’s gold bracelet that he keeps in his safe?”

Oh, fuck.

“Uh…”

“Scalvo, if you lie to me I will literally fucking riot. How did he get it?”

He remained quiet as he was taking this moment in.

There was no way in the world that the two of you would be able to move past this.

“SCALVO, ANSWER ME NOW DAMN IT!”

“We broke into your parents house and took it. But….”

“How could you do that? Why would you do that?”

“Just let me explain. Please.” Scalvo pleaded with you as he grabbed your hand, but you quickly shook your head and got loose from his grasp.

“Explain, what? How you used me? Stole my dad's money? Do I mean absolutely nothing to you? I love you and I feel so stupid for it!”

“I love you too! You mean the world to me, please understand that and no! I didn't even know who you were when we met! It had nothing to do with you! It was Mr. Besegai because he was mad that your father put him in jail. When I finally figured it out, he said if I didn’t go through with it that he was going to hurt you and I couldn’t have that happen.”

“I feel so stupid because you straight up played me like a fool. Hmm, businessman huh? All you do is fucking steal for a living.”

“I never meant to hurt you. Please understand that. But my father died because your father wrongfully convicted him and he died in jail before I could get a chance to prove that he was innocent and has done the same thing to how many other people?”

“I’m sorry about your father and what happened to him wasn’t fair in any way, shape or form, but this is not the way to fix things and you know it.”

“There's a right way? Then tell me so I can bring my dad back. The only one who actually gave a damn about me.”

“The person who is standing in front of you right now also gives a damn about you!”

“You'll never understand. Look where you come from and then look where I come from. We were doomed from the start.” He said as he started to walk away and you quickly stood in front of the exit blocking him in.

“We can fix this.”

“We'll never work and you know it. What I've done is always going to be at the back of your mind. I care about you Y/N, but…. Just take care of yourself.”

“No, you do not get to walk away that easily. You… just wait a minute.”

“I can and I will. This is done. It’s what’s best for the both of us no matter how hard it might be.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave me?” You asked as you felt the tears build up in the corners of your eyes. Scalvo noticed and it took everything in him not to embrace you right then and there. He took a step forward, but moved right back because he knew that if he did, he wouldn't want to let you go.

“I’m not any good for you. I have absolutely nothing to offer you and let’s be serious. A daughter or a lawyer dating someone who makes money by stealing from important people in power?”

“But I still want you.”

He knew at that point as much as he didn’t want to do it, he had to say something that would hurt you in order for you to stay away from him.

For your own good and for his.

“And you’re living in a fantasy land if you think that this would ever work. Y/N, do me a favor and don’t call me anymore, don’t look for me. This is it. We’re over, and we’re done. This relationship is a one-way street, and it was only going to lead to a dead end.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow smut #jack harlow fanfiction #the instigators #scalvo x reader

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wicked-barbie · 2 months ago

Text

Fettered

House of the Dragon: Gwayne Hightower x Targ!reader (mentions of eye color and hair color)

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 2.1 k

Prompt: “You make me wanna do something outside of my nature” -Making a Move by TWRP for @sweetspicybingo (Lyrical Bingo Collection)

Warnings: DUB-CON, captivity, spanking, cock warming, manipulation, misogyny, anal, humiliation, bondage, forced nudity

Summary: At the Battle of Honeywine, Gwayne takes you as a prisoner of war

It is war’s prize to take all vantage ~ William Shakespeare

Your hand gripped the hilt of your sword as you swung your blade. The battle waged around you, the smell of blood heavy in the air. Victory tasted sweet on your tongue as Rhaenyra’s supporters began to diminish Ormund Hightower’s army. Your foe proved worthy, blocking your blow with his sword and shoving you back. With feet planted firmly in the ground, he failed to break you down. The two of you continued your dance. You were unaware that you were fighting against the Dowager Queen’s brother, and he was unaware that he squared off with Queen Rhaenyra’s own sister.

Dread bubbled under your skin when you heard the dragon’s roar then saw the great blue beast fill the sky. Daeron the Daring. The distraction was enough to gain Gwayne Hightower the upper hand, swiftly knocking you to your feet and pressing the sharp tip of his blade against the delicate sliver of your exposed throat. The putrid stench of burned flesh filled the air, and Rhaenyra’s men fell as dragon fire claimed them. Gwayne removed his helmet and smirked down at you as the recognition of his identity seeped through your veins.

“Do you wish to bend the knee to the rightful King Aegon, or do you wish to have your head removed from your body?” he asked, his brown eyes filled with darkness.

“I will never bend the knee to the usurper,” you spat.

“Many say that in the beginning, but the fear of death changes their mind,” Gwayne tutted, gently shaking his head and flicking an errant lock of auburn hair out of his eyes.

“A dragon doesn’t fear death,” you said, reading to meet the Stranger.

“A dragon?” Gwayne questioned, his lips twisting into a frown, reaching down to pull your helmet off your head.

Your silver hair had been braided tightly and wound around your head, but there was no mistaking you for anything other than a Targaryen. Your violet eyes narrowed as you flexed your knee, aiming your foot toward his ankle to catch him off guard. An amused chuckle fell from his lips as your force merely rattled his armor.

“My, a princess playing a warrior,” he mused, pressing his boot firmly against your chest.

“I can assure you…traitor, that I do not play at anything,” you hissed.

“We shall see,” he hummed, calling over some men from his cousin’s army to bind you and place you across the back of his horse. Humiliation burned your cheeks, but at least you were alive. An alive person stood a chance, while the dead poised none. You would not give Gwayne Hightower the satisfaction of your tears, so you remained silent during the most uncomfortable ride toward Oldtown.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain thrill surged through the Hightower man, awakening urges he thought long buried deep down. You were his now, and new desires bloomed through him. A darker nature seeped in, chasing away the chivalrous knight who obeyed the rules. Times of war called for a sterner nature.

You expected to be placed in the underground vault of Hightower when you finally arrived at the gloomy place. The flame shone bright and emerald on top of the beacon. The bannerman called to war to fight for their king. Bitterness filled your mouth as you were roughly pulled off Gwayne’s horse and dragged inside.

“Secure her in my chambers and arrange for a bath,” Gwayen instructed.

You raised a pale brow but said nothing.

“After all, a princess must be kept in a gilded cage,” Gwayne called after you, a smirk curling across his lips.

You were freed from the ropes biting into your skin, and the men stripped you of your armor, leaving you in a thin tunic and breeches as handmaids came in one after another with buckets of warm water to fill the stone tub placed in the room. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself. The fire crackled in the hearth, and you hated yourself for feeling thankful for the warmth.

“Thank you, ladies, you are dismissed,” Gwayne announced as he entered the room.

Steam rose from the bath, the sweet scent of lavender tickling beneath your nose.

“Come and remove my armor,” Gwayne ordered.

“I am not your servant,” you seethed.

“No, you are my prisoner,” he corrected with a haughty look.

A scowl remained permanently etched across your face as you willed your bare feet to move. You unhooked his green cape before removing the rest of his armor. You gasped when he grabbed you, tugging you free of your remaining clothing until you stood bare before him. He said naught as he freed your silver hair from the tightly woven braids and guided you toward the steaming bath.

“In you go,” he cooed in a tone as if one were placating a child and patted your bare rump.

Your fingers curled into fists as you spun around on your heels, hand poised to slap him across the face. He grabbed hold of your wrists, keeping you in place as he chuckled.

“My, you dragons certainly do have fire,” he mused, his dark eyes boring into yours, “You might think to mind your manners, or I could arrange for you to be thrown into one of the empty vaults without a stitch of clothing to keep you warm.”

You growled. His threat should have subdued you, but instead, it only fueled the hot flames licking deep in your belly. If only you could wrap your fingers around a blade. You could slit his throat and be done with it.

“Mayhaps I ought to teach you a lesson in how a delicate princess ought to behave,” he hummed.

You fought him every step of the way as he dragged you over to the bed and across one knee. Your feet dangled, the tips of your toes brushing against the floor before his palm cracked down hard against your bare skin, making you roar.

“Unhand me!” you demanded.

“You are in no position to be making such demands,” Gwayne pointed out as his hand slapped down repeatedly against your vulnerable rump.

You gritted your teeth as his palm painted your skin crimson red. The burn itched, and you hated that your resolve was breaking. One could only take so much.

“Please,” you wailed, hoping for mercy.

None came as he swatted your upper thighs, setting your tender skin aflame. He did not stop until he was satisfied with the chastisement, and your skin bloomed fiery red with his handprints.

“I shall repeat this lesson as many times as needed,” he warned before allowing you to slip down your feet.

Tears blurred your vision as pain throbbed through you. He waited for no more argument before scooping you into his arms and placing you in the bath. You whined as the water further irritated your abused skin. The smirk never left Gwayne’s face as he began to scrub you clean. You were surprised as he washed your hair, his hands pleasantly kneading your scalp and ensuring all the grime was stripped away.

“Now you appear to be a proper princess,” he smiled. He helped you out of the bath, dried you off with a linen towel, and wrapped you in a green robe embroidered with golden threading. His hand took hold of your chin, tilting your gaze towards his. “You are mine, princess. This room will be heavily guarded at all times, and there will be consequences if you dare to attempt an escape.”

His words made heat bloom in your nether regions. You had not expected that the man your Uncle bested at the tourney all those years ago possessed such a nature. You had expected him to behave as a pompous imbecile. How mistaken you were.

The days passed in your opulent prison. Despite the comfortable bed, the sumptuous food, and warm baths, the obvious deceptions and distractions, you were well aware of your position. A Targaryen Princess trapped in the Hightower flame. You passed the time by playing the game, allowing Gwayne to believe he held the upper hand and you were the pathetic prisoner at his mercy. You allowed your body to bear the burden while your mind remained sharp as the blade you wished to drive into his neck.

Gwayne’s belt bound your wrists, and you squealed as his hand cracked down repeatedly. You were naked, squirming over his lap as he thoroughly punished you for attempting to escape. You did your best to hide the smug smile at slicing one of the guard’s faces. Your marks would heal, while his would serve as a reminder of what happens when one tussled with a dragon.

“And to think I had come to reward you with a pretty gown only to discover what a naughty girl you’ve been,” he scolded as he slapped your rump. You cursed yourself for finding this tête-à-tête so arousing, but you had grown to enjoy his rough treatment, followed by the tenderness. Or so you convinced yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, but you weren’t sorry in the least. You had learned to accept your fate in order to survive.

“Hush now. I shall make you well-behaved yet, even if it kills me,” he lectured, smoothing his palm over your heated skin. The irony of his words was not lost on you. One day, it will. He pressed his thumb between his lips, sucking on the appendage until it grew slick with his salvia. He spread your cheeks, placing his wet thumb against your hole, and massaged the muscle. “Perhaps further humiliation is in order.”

The tip of his thumb slipped inside, and you mewled. Allow him to hear it, let him believe he is breaking me.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled darkly as he claimed your most intimate area.

His cock warmed your mouth as he sat at the desk, slowly working on his correspondence.

“Your sister is eager for your safe return,” he chuckled, patting your head. “Should I write to tell her that you enjoy being my pup? Eager to serve her master.” A dragon serves no one, especially not a Hightower.

Shame palpated in your belly. You hated how right he was, how you craved the carrot over the stick. How he would fill your arse with the perfectly fitted stone before he bent you over and fucked you, rutting you like one would a bitch in heat. You loved when he spanked you or bent your knees back to your ears as he slapped your cunt furiously. Sometimes, he would make you kneel at his feet while he fed you morsels of food. Most of the time, you were kept naked, but there were times he would gift you a beautiful emerald gown and allow you to dine with him like a lady. You craved all he gave.

Or you convinced yourself of such. One must do many distasteful things to survive.

You merely hummed around his cock in response, and as the ink dried on the parchment, he fucked your mouth and spilled down your throat. He didn’t notice as the letter opener clattered to the floor, a detail that did not escape you.

That evening, you crawled onto his chest, kissing his mouth and cheeks sweetly.

“Allow me to please you, my lord,” you purred, voice dripping with honey.

“Go on then,” he grinned, hands stroking your hips.

You pulled the blanket away, inching the sleep clothes up his waist and nuzzling his cock to stir him to life. It did not take long to make him stiff for you, and you slipped onto him with ease. His large hands cupped your bare breasts as you rode him. You moaned wantonly, tossing your head back as you waited for the precise moment. Just as he entered the throes of passion, his eyes closed as his back arched. One hand slipped around his throat while your other slipped under your pillow and wrapped around the letter opener.

He sputtered as your grip tightened around his throat, and his eyes flew open just in time to see you drive the item deep into his neck. You willed your strength to make sure it buried deep in his flesh.

“I do hope I’ve become the lady you taught me to be,” you cooed, placing a kiss on his cold lips as the light drained from his eyes. Syrax’s roar filled the air, followed by the screams of men as your sister, the rightful queen, came to your rescue. You could not wait to scrub your skin clean of this place and of his touch.

A dragon cannot be tamed by one who is not worthy.

#sweetspicylyrics #fic: hotd #gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x you #tw dubcon

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spxllcxstxr · 6 months ago

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Protected • R.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi!! Can I request a angst/fluff with robb stark & the prompt: I’m going to protect you. Thank you so much :))) — anon

Summary: The aftermath of Ned Stark’s death

Warnings: canon character death sprinkled with a wee bit of canon divergence?, grieving, reader wears a dress and is referred to as wife (no pronouns used)

Word Count: 769 (i'm so sorry for the short length lmao)

A.N: first time writing Robb! i actually really like this ngl, hope you enjoy!

•

“That boy is going to ruin his sword.” Lady Catelyn mutters from beside you, her eyes trained on her eldest son on the edge of the tree line. Her hands fidget with the end of her braid.

Your own eyes gaze out to see your betrothed, hacking away at a tree stump, his grunts echoing throughout the silent camp.

News of Ned Stark’s horrid death spread through the camp quickly only hours prior, and the men had hid in their tents to mourn the Lord of Winterfell. It was a gloomy day, appropriately reflecting the mood of the solemn North. The clouds were heavy and grey, the air still smelling of the earlier rain.

Sighing, you watch Robb hit anything within arms reach. His moves are erratic, it's obvious even from this distance. Your teeth tease your bottom lip uneasily.

“I should go to him…” Lady Catelyn sighs, her lips tilted down into a frown.

Your hand rests on her shoulder, stopping the older woman from moving. “My Lady, you just lost your husband…go grieve. I will talk to Robb.”

Lady Catelyn nods, her eyes vacant as she turns towards her own tent. You watch her leave, making sure she gets to her destination safely before trudging through the mud to your betrothed.

The mud clings to your nice shoes, and at this point you don’t bother hiking your skirts up to avoid the filth below you. Your eyes stay trained on Robb, his forceful movement never ceasing.

A few feet away from him, you hear his grunts of anguish and frustration, his tunic dotted with sweat. You let his take one more swing at the rotting stump before you cough to gain his attention.

“Robb, I think that is enough…”

Robb freezes before slowly turning to face you. His auburn curls untamed and his blue eyes burning brighter with rage. You’ve never seen him like this at all, not when he first heard his father was taken prisoner in King’s Landing, nor when he discovered that someone had sent assassins to kill Bran. Your eyes widen at the state of your betrothed, fidgeting in place. He pants heavily as he looks at you.

“I’ll kill them! I swear to every god out there, I will kill the Lannisters for what they have done!” Robb seethes, his face red with anger. “It is only what those murderous pricks deserve.”

He flings his sword down, taking deep ragged breaths. You don’t flinch at his uncharacteristic anger, instead you inch closer to your betrothed.

All at once, as if the adrenaline drains out of him, Robb falls to his knees, his blue eyes trained on the mud beneath your feet as they glimmer with tears.

You drop down with him, taking his head in your hands, leaning your forehead against your lover’s.

“Oh darling…” You whisper, watching the grief take over his features. Your heart breaks seeing him so vulnerable.

“My father is dead,” He sobs, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “They have to pay for what they have done.”

“They will, Robb, they will suffer for their cruelty towards the North," You tell him softly, lifting your head to place a delicate kiss on his forehead.

Robb glances up as well, his tears subsiding. “And I will protect you, my dearest. No Lannister will ever harm you,” There is a quick burst of fire behind those usually cool eyes. “they would not dare.”

“Robb—“ Your fingertips brush over his stubble.

“They have taken my sisters hostage and they have killed my father, but they will not take my wife from me.”

Heat creeps up your neck at his passionate words. You and Robb had not yet been wed but hearing his call you his wife causes you to shiver.

“I swear it to you, my love,” Robb continues, taking your hands in his rough hands, squeezing them tightly between your two closely crouched bodies. “They will not touch you.”

“I believe you, darling, I do.” You reply lightly, squeezing back, attempting to convey how much trust and love you’re filled with for him.

The sky seems to lighten, clouds parting ever so slightly to let the sun peek through enough to shine down on your camp. The moist air of the Riverlands clings onto your skin as the few rays of sun beats down on your exposed skin making your position unbearable.

Wordlessly, you and Robb rise, chins up despite the situation that just occurred. Your hands hold onto his arm as the two of you, side by side, walk back into the center of camp, ready for war.

•

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #got x reader #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark fanfic #robb stark blurb

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 5 years ago

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"WHALEN SQUAD TIP TRAPS 4 AND $100,000 GEM LOOT," New York Daily News. August 27, 1929. Page 3 & 4. --- Thug Gives Clew to Barry In Mansion Burglary --- By JOHN MARTIN JEWELRY valued at $100,000, which police are sure is almost all the loot stolen in a spectacular speedboat and airplane robbery at the Beverly Farms estate of Mr. and Mrs. Sydney E. Hutchinson, was recovered after a fierce struggle between three detectives and four colored men yesterday in a barber shop at 2397 7th ave, near West 140th st.

The jewelry included a rope of 138 matched and graduated pearls exactly like that reported stolen from the Hatchinsons, the robbery of whose home was charted from the sky and executed by motorboat from the shore of their palatial Massachusetts summer estate.

The other pieces are five brace lets, two hairpins, two diamond studded wrist watches, three stick- two pearl studs and a blue enamel wrist watch. They also tally with the Hutchinson descriptions of the stolen gems,

Points to Arthur Barry. Police Commissioner Whalen said the tip which led to the arrests was the first valuable piere of work to come from his department's new secret service squad, and hinted broadly that the information pointed suspicion at Arthur Barry, spectacular jewel thief, who escaped with three other convicts after leading the Auburn prison break a month ago.

Mrs. Hutchinson, the former Edith L. Stotesbury, and her husband, who is connected with the Drexel and Morgan banking houses in Philadelphia and New York, are on their way to Europe.

The recovered jewelry will be examined today by Mrs. Natalie Tyson, daughter of the Hutchinsons, who will be accompanied here by Police Chief John F. Welch of Beverly Farms. Both will scrutinize the four colored prisoners in the morning lineup to see if they can recognize them.

The prisoners said they were Baron Baucaire, 33, of 5 Wellington st., Boston: James Salley, 30, of 146 West 138th st.; William Smith, 35, of 208 West 149th st., and Thomas Wright, 30, of 131 West 149th st. Baucaire and Salley were held as possessors of stolen goods and the other two, barbers, as material witnesses.

Detectives Levine, Monahan and Kirwin of Inspector Mulrooney's staff entered a rear room of the shop at 2 p. m. They said Baucaire tossed the pearls into a telephone directory and Salley dropped a handkerchief package containing the rest of the gems behind a chair.

Baucaire drew a pistol and backed toward a window. Monahan advanced steadily. Levine watched Salley and Kirwin felled Baucaire with a blackjack blow.

Taken to headquarters, Baucaire insisted a man named Young gave him the gems and the pistol, asking him to dispose of them in New York and telling him to use the weapon unhesitatingly if police- man approached him. The first hint of the Barry angle came when Whalen had Baucaire shown a picture of the escaped convict.

The prisoner nodded, "That looks like the man, but he told me his name was Young."

The Hutchinsons reported theft of $114,000 in jewelry. The recovered loot failed to include two diamond earrings and a gold mesh bag, which they had valued at slightly less than $14,000, but every other piece was recovered. Search of the homes of the three New York prisoners failed to locate the earrings and bag, the detectives said.

(Other picture on page 1)

#new york #long island #jewel robbery #jewel theft #stolen jewelry #robbery gang #arthur barry #sentenced to the penitentiary #auburn prison #history of crime and punishment #années folles #prison break #escaped convict #notorious criminals #robbing hood #prisoner autobiography #1929 auburn prison riots #prince of thieves

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beware-of-pity · 1 month ago

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You believe me like a god (I destroy you like I am) IV

Masterlist

Previous Chapter - Next

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

TW: Self-hatred/Implied Self Harm. Complicated family relations. The reader is a Targtower.

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter IV: "Angel" he calls me (Does he know that I'm falling?)

Your room had become a graveyard of memories, most of its belongings were those passed down to you from your late family members, and its latest additions were your mother’s, which you kept in a coffer, locked and sealed in the corner of the small vastness of your room.

The air was often stuffy as a result, and between Helaena's insect viewing screens and your mother’s piled embroidery works, you took every opportunity you were offered to be far away from it.

Jaehaera, on the other hand, viewed it almost as a playground, often roaming it as a labyrinth of a past she could not remember, a past that wasn’t hers. You attempted to show her Helaena’s needlework or her insects collection, anything that could keep the memory of her mother alive, but your little girl did not seem that interested. You had put the effort off for the while, waiting at least until she was grown enough to remember what you were showing and telling her.

Instead, it seemed that she had found a toy and companion in a doll you and Helaena used to play with at her age, shaped to the liking of your mother, with dark, auburn hair and brown eyes. You had let her have it and asked Rhaenyra for some new fabrics, for you to sew some new clothes for the doll, as its last were old and ragged.

Today, you were allowed out during your change of guard.

To leave the ‘vault’, as people would call it, the long keep with the slate roof behind the royal sept your family was confined in, was like a breath of fresh air, for however fresh the change could be, seeing the foul smell the city often carried with itself and it’s reputation. Thankfully, the gardens were exempted from such nullity and nuisance, the smell of freshly planted flowers making up for its environment.

Such a pity Jaehaera had to attend her lessons on such a beautiful sunny day. You were sure she would have liked the feel of the sun on her skin after so long inside, but you most of all understood how important her lessons were for her, actively encouraging her to go to them even on those days she would not wish to, taking her to the chamber where they would be held, hand in hand.

Were you both to be confined to the Keep for the rest of your lives with no hopes of seeing any change, then her wit would one day become her saving grace, and you would make sure she cultivated her talents in quantity.

Just as you had been made to do at her age, for the rest of your life by your mother.

From where you walked, you got a clear view of the inner courtyard, filled and bustling with activity. From servants and stable boys hanging around to high and low nobles promenading around, as they always did, as if they had nothing better to do.

You knew very well that that was not just what they were doing. The art of lingering around, present but never noticed, becoming part of the backdrop in people’s lives was something that, while you could not go unnoticed of doing, was something you had learned a thing or two about since the beginning of your confinement as Rhaenyra’s prisoner.

Steely but silent, never to make a sound too loud, that’s how you moved around the halls of the Keep, watching with your ever-curious eye. If there was one thing you were grateful to your mother for, it was for teaching you never to take people or anything by their surface level. A man, as common as they come, could be the Lord of the Seven Hells in disguise, and by putting up a good bravado, he could fool even the wisest, the most pious. The angel of death disguises itself as an angel of light. The gods shine bright their light among the most faithful to protect others from him, but even the gods’ gaze cannot reach where their light cannot overpower the dark. It was in your best interest to understand people and their motives, now more than ever when your survival depended on it.

You watched as the familiar figure of Jacaerys came from the double doors leading to the courtyard. He donned his riding gear, very clearly prepared to head to the dragonpit to visit Vermax and take him for a ride. You were about to call out for him, greeting him and calling out for a good morrow, having only seen him now since yesterday, but stopped when you realised he was not alone.

Baela and Rhaena followed soon after, walking out the doors donned in the same riding gears as him, a clear sign that they were going with him to ride their dragons too.

The laughs of the trio reached your ears as you watched them smile and chatter with one another, so content and carefree. So unlike you and your predicament. You wished to be with them, in your own gear, going to the dragonpit to ride Silverwing, who you missed dearly. But it was a common truth that you could not. A truth you could only turn into reality in your dreams, where you dreamt of sitting upon the leather saddle on her back, soaring to the skies as you once used to.

You clenched your hand involuntarily, the pain so evident as you felt the tips of your nails dig into your palm, so deep that had you not stopped yourself, you were sure to draw blood.

A feeling so dark and viscous twisted at your heart.

How was this fair? Why should you have to pay the price for the sins of others? You had been pardoned for your family’s crimes, why, then, were you not allowed to return to a life of normalcy? Why, after two years since the war’s end, were you still treated as a traitor would?

Jaehaera, too, a girl so young and so bright, of just ten years of age, isolated by the children of her age, was allowed only to familiarise herself with Rhaenyra’s youngest sons.

The reasons as to why pulled at your viscera. If they were doing this for reasons that you were not allowed to know, if they were hiding them from you, you knew it was because they, too, understood that you would not stand for them.

Everyone had witnessed in what was now being called the ‘Dance of the Dragons’ how destructive and deep the rage and anger of the Targaryens could be. You seemed meek, weakened as the years passed, but no one forgot who you were, as you never showed yourself to be passive to slights and insults thrown your way. You had to stand for yourself, now more than ever, when you had no one to do so for you, and with a rage running so deep? Some would say the perfect recipe for disaster.

A Targaryen whose blood of the dragons ran as deep as that of those that came before you and those that will come after, as hot and boiling as that of dragons made flesh.

One day you will wake from the ashes of your sleep and remember who you were. Today, was just not that day.

You had been promised that you and Jaehaera would be treated well, but you knew very well that promises meant nothing. They could be easily spoken, so easily broken, just as oaths had been during the war. or how much longer this would last, you could not know.

You were comfortable now but in the future? Who would assure you a life worthy of being called as such? Jacaerys? Jacaerys would be too busy being King to assure you continued to have the life he was making sure you had now, and if rumours of him being betrothed to Baela were to become true, who is to say his gaze would not be too hastily driven to his new wife rather than to his duties or his responsibilities.

Because that’s what you were, a responsibility, now belonging to his mother, your sister, but one day to become his.

Watching them walk up to the wheelhouse, with no sense of worry or care, made you only want to be able to have what they had more than anything.

You turned to walk in the opposite direction, turning your gaze from that which you had begun to crave once more, something you knew you would not be given, could not be given, as they always reminded you.

Unbeknown to your thoughts, your feet had led you towards the forest of the godswood. You had not noticed until the darkness of the shade washed over you, glimpses of light shining down at you from the cracks of the moving branches.

The rustling of the leaves by the wind calmed your thoughts, your hunger for what you craved, the anger for what you were denied. The chirping of distant birds, the murmur of crickets, and the washing of the waves of the Blackwater Bay created the perfect backdrop for your walk, but the fresh chill made for a cold reminder of the spring that had yet to come as you clinched to your frame your shawl, moving it over your shoulder from where it rested hanging on your elbows. The thick walls shut out the clamour of the castle, creating the perfect quiet for your unrested mind, despite your occasional shivers.

You allowed the silence to surround you, only broken by your and your guard’s steps, who, unlike your wishes, moved unsynchronised. Ser Rickard’s were heavier, not just made so by his weight and height but also by the heavy armoury he concealed his body with.

He who had first been in your mother’s services when Ser Criston had gone to march against Rhaenyra, who, surprisingly, had been allowed for him to retain his position as a member of the Kingsguard, now the Queensguard.

Though he was appointed as your sworn protector to get him out of her gaze, she was not too fond of having her late brother’s treacherous servitude anywhere near her.

Ser Rickard was always kind to you, taking care of you as a father would, perhaps better than yours had when he was still alive. Despite the strict orders he had been given about never letting his eyes off you on these particular and secluded walks, he allowed you the freedom you were deprived in the thick walls of the Red Keep, which were known to have ears and mouths to carry the whispers of misbehaviour far and wide.

As you sat upon a bench, he took some steps back, watching over you from the distance as you gazed over the bay set before you. The sea leading to the Gullet was filled with merchant ships from around the continent, Volantis, Lys, and Braavos, going in and out, carrying with them the well-being of the Capital and that of its people.

The godswood was empty, as it would be along the walls of the city of Southron gods. Hardly anyone came here to pray. Prayer would only fill the ears of the trees when a Stark or a northerner was nearby, otherwise, the tree would have to bear witness to secret escapades from young couples, whispered plots or your solitary walks. You suppose even the gods would grow bored of such entertainment. You were not much to look at in this state, after all. At least for them, for it seemed you had indeed caught the eye of someone.

The sound of leaves being crunched under heavy boots that did not belong to Ser Rickard made the both of you twist in alert, awaiting the reveal of the intruder of your quiet.

The man had not proved himself to be a stranger by any means; you knew him quite well, the familiarity between you two not a hidden knowledge to one another.

“Lord Reynford” Reynford of House Redwyne, Lord of the Arbour, once ally of your brother and a kin of yours, though through which unmanned and distant cousin you had never met, you could not tell. You had a vague idea of why he was here as you acknowledged his presence.

“Forgive me, your grace, I did not mean to interrupt the quiet” his voice was gruff and slightly monotone, not giving away anything. He dressed richly, even for his age. His face clearly showed his age, a man of over two and fifty years of age, who carried himself well despite his tenure.

“It’s hardly quiet, wouldn’t you say?” You asked, the sound of the city below you two proving your point.

“So it would seem, though I meant you quiet. The city can hardly be disturbed when in itself is a cause for disturbance,” he said, walking closer.

With the tail of your eye, you spied Ser Rickard stepping closer, and you held up a hand, signalling for him not to.

He stopped in his tracks, unsure whether or not to listen to your silent command, which went against what he was instructed. Though he cared for you and gave you much relative freedom, he was always at the ready to prove his loyalty to the monarch he was now sworn to serve. You did not blame him for not wanting to so easily disobey the orders he had been given or to prove himself disloyal by the newly bound oath he had sworn. It was beyond his bounds to allow this conversation to continue, of the possible treachery that was sure to be whispered.

Still, now, you found yourself wanting to be selfish, wanting this thing to be given to you. Fortunately for you, it seemed that Ser Rickard understood you too well. He returned slowly to his previous posting, giving you and Lord Reynford space and privacy for your conversation. He would grant you this, only because of how wanting you seemed of it.

“Such a pity, that such beautiful day is to be disturbed by the cold of the wind” Lord Reynford now stood in front of you, clutching his hand behind his back. He wore a heavy, blue cloak with a red fur collar fastened with a pin in the shape of a burgundy grape cluster. A true Redwyne, he presented himself as such, showing others how proud he was of his heritage.

“How true you speak, but I suppose beautiful things are not often left untouched by the harshness of the world. Wouldn’t you say?” He seemed to ponder your words, though you could see he wasn’t really giving them much thought, his mind somewhere else altogether, perhaps to the reason why he was here.

“How right you are, you yourself are a great example of such saying,” he said, his voice low “I do remember how charming you looked in green, princess. How dreadful these black gowns make you look” he extended a hand to pull a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“You flatter me,” you said, closing your eyes at the contact of his finger against your temple, wanting nothing more than to pull away, but not wanting to be impolite, something you were taught to be unacceptable against high and honourable lords “but those times are gone, my lord. You best make sure to forget of them”

“Nonsense, i could never forget such pretty sight” he disagreed “How I and many others wish to see it again, you cannot imagine, Princess” You watched as he shuffled closer “More than anything, that and much more. We all wish for your happiness and your desires to be fulfilled”

“And what would you know of my desires, my lord?” You asked, tilting your head in a slight show of defiance, but not against him, but rather his assumption.

“Nothing, unless you wish to share them with me” How clever of him, he had plotted it all it seemed, not leaving a single possibility in its wake.

“And tell me, Lord Reynford. Are you of the same cloth that Lord Peake was cut from?”

Unwin Peake, a man known for being willing to die to see his ambitions succeed. He wasn’t exactly subtle in his straying of hands, his overstepping, his overaching. The way he pushed his daughter, of just one and ten years of age, into befriending the eight and ten-man that was Jacaerys concealed anything but what he was truly after. Like any other man, Peake yearned for the throne, though he wasn’t exactly quiet about his wants or needs, which was why his plans had not unfolded in the way he wanted.

He had fought for your brother through the very end, and as such, he had approached you many times, trying to inspire rebellion in you, which you quickly and always turned him down for, at times rather harshly for his insistence. But it wasn’t your fault that he didn’t understand that you had no interest in opening old wounds unless necessary. Unless it be to protect yourself and Jaehaera.

“I would sooner allow you to take my life than be condemned to the same ring of the seven hells in which that man belongs in” he replied gruffly, almost offended by the comparison. But he was a smart man who understood the question you had just asked him. The meaning of your words was plain to see. Was he here to try and use you for your plans, or was he an ally, here to reassure you of his loyalty and, most of all, his eagerness to serve you?

“You must believe me, your grace. I wish for nothing more than to serve you in my capacities” The reassurance was much needed, and though you believe his words to be sincere, you were not too quick to fall for them. Any man could speak with enough sincerity to get what he wanted, and though a servant and faithful subject, he remained a man, and men are but deceiving creatures. He would have to prove himself first.

“Your words are as sweet as the wine that flows at your feasts,” you said, voice thick “almost….intoxicating, if said to the wrong person we can only imagine the damage they could cause”

“Then we must make sure they do not reach unwanted ears, no?” His eyes burned with hidden conviction, one only for you to see. Bearing witness only, were the trees. They were there, listening, silent, watching you two. The greenery of their leaves, the greenery of the grass, the shade reflecting such colour. Green, a colour so bright and so deep, the colour of living things, of life, of earthly change and of rot. So many rotten things were green, your family having been one of them.

“You said that my desires are ones you share” you tested him, wanting his reaction. He perked at your words, clearly listening intently to your coming request.

Remember this feeling, you told yourself, this is the moment you stop being the lamb to the slaughter.

You were blind. No, you had blinded yourself of the truth which had now come to the surface.

You were rotten, just like them, just as your family had been, just as much as the words you were speaking. How sweetly the fox speaks when it is being cornered by the hound.

“I want to be free”

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